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Emory University Library 


In Memoriam 


® Ruth Candler Lovett 



ti 1 \ 











Cba^teb Paot 

I. Francis Drake and the Miser 1 

II. The Slaver 6 

III. Bully Dick catches a Tartar 9 

IV Drake to the Rescue 17 

V The Jeweller and his Daughter 30 

VI. The Gold and Emerald King 38 

VII. Julia finds a Champion 48 

VIII. The price of a Life 53 

IX. The "Enterprise," and her Crew 60 

X. The Orange Grove 66 

XI. Don Jose' de Castanaros 72 

XII. Don Placido Ortigoza 78 

£111. "Cain, where is thy Brother?" 85 

XIV The treachery of Don Placido 92 

XV The kindness of Don Jose" 99 

XVI. Spanish Treachery 110 

XVII. The Abduction 138 

XVIII. The Rescue 146 

XIX. The Brother's Curse 157 

XX. The Man who leaped from the Window 177 

XXI. The Story of the Man who leaped from the 

Window 184 

ytXII. The Journey to the Gold-Mines 197 

XXIII. The Oasis in the Desert 204 

XXIV. How the Creeping Snake Revenged himself for his 

former I/efeat 209 


Chapter pAOt 

XXV Doomed to Death , 213 

XXVI. The Rescue 218 

:XVII. A Band of Brothers 227 

XVIII. The Return of the Corsair— Attack on the Spanish 

Galleon 235 

XXIX. A Strange Meeting 247 

XXX. The Council 252 

XXXI. Love and Friendship 25S 

XXXII. The Ransom : 274 

XXIII. Don Placido's Despair 283 

XXIV. Fire and Sword 289 

£XXV The Corsairs' Nest 303 

:XXVI. The Three Ships 307 

LXVII. The Hour of Vengeance 3i4 




Moses Magrath was a noted character of the town, or 
rather village, of Margate. His wealth was great, as was 
also his parsimony. Miser and money-lender, although 
often sought by the embarrassed and needy, he had but 
few friends. In a small, low, dirty-looking house, in a 
narrow and dark street, lived this worshipful individual. 
In a badly furnished, ill-lighted back room, the old miser 
transacted his business. All day long, like a spider in his 
web, he remained at a small deal table, waiting the coming 
of those who needed his assistance. 

A ring came to the door. 

" Who is that, Anne 1 Look from the window before 
you open," he said, in a sharp, harsh voice. 

" It is young Francis Drake, master. Shall I open the 

" Humph ! " grunted the old Jew ; " Francis Drake, eh ? 
"Wants more money, I suppose. No matter — you may let 
<iim in, Anne." 

"* Well, Captain Drake," said the old man, when Ms 



visitor was ushered in, "-what can I do for you? I 
thought that the payment of that loan -was not due till 
next week. But no matter ; money is short, and I shall 
be glad to receive it now ; for, you know, ' short rec kon- 
iny- rake long friends."' 

" I am sorry, Mr. Magrath, that I cannot oblige you ; I 
called Jo: quite another purpose ; it is on business of 
another nature, I am sorry to say." 

The speaker was a tall, fair, handsome young man. 
Though scarcely twenty years of age, he was the captain of 
a small craft trading to the coast of France. People 
hinted that the nature of this trade was not such as would 
bear inspection ; in short, that the Julia, as his little craft 
was called, had frequently on board a freight which was 
never destined to pay the King's customs. Francis Drake 
was not, however, a professional smuggler; whether he 
ever did run a contraband cargo was best known to him- 
self ; certain it is, however, that the custom-house officers, 
with all their vigilance, could never succeed in detecting 
anything of the kind. 

Among the seafaring population of Margate, the young 
sailor was held in high esteem for skill and daring. On 
one occasion, he had put to sea in his little craft, to aid a 
vessel in distress, when not another man in the town 
would venture with him. He and his two brothers w r ent 
alone, and returned, bringing with them the crew of the 
endangered vessel. 

Let us see what business Francis Drake, the young 
Bailor, has with Moses Magrath, the money-lender. 

"Take a chair, Mr. Francis," said the old man, scruti- 
nizing his visitor closely, "and let me know your busi- 
ness ; for time is money, and life is short." 

( My business, Mr. Magrath, is, then, briefly this* 


instead of coming to pay money, I come to ask of you a 
great favour." 

" A great favour ! and you cannot, then, pay me the 
UKmeyT' said Magrath, testily; -"you cannot pay it 1 ? 
How am I to live, and pay my debts, if people do not pay 
me? I am a poor man, Mr. Drake, a poor man — and 
money is money ; so, I pray you, see and pay me." 

" Mr. Magrath," said the young man, " you know how 
I am situated. The last few trips I have made in the 
Julia have not been profitable ; the crops on my mother's 
farm have been very bad ; the earnings of my brothers 
have been small At present I cannot pay you. I come 
to ask your forbearance and your aid." 

" My aid ! What, more money ? It is impossible : 
I have no money — I am a poor man " 

Francis Drake interrupted him. 

" Yes, Mr. Magrath, your aid ; in return for which I 
offer you a large share of the profits of the great enterprize 
I contemplate — an enterprize which cannot fail to make 
rich as Croesus all those who engage in it." 

" Well, well, Master Drake, let us hear this project oi 
yours ; then, if I like it, we will see what can be done. 
' He is a fool that will not give an egg for an ox,' says the 
proverb ; but it is important first to see our way to the 
ox. The project— the project! Let us hear this project 
of yours, Master Drake." 

" It is this, Mr. Magrath. I am tired of these petty 
trips — this coasting work across the Channel and back. L 
you will furnish me with sufficient money to fit out and 
freight a ship four times the size of the Julia, I will 
guarantee a return of four-fold the sum." 

" But how — how % That is the question- Let me set 
aiv way," 


*'i will tell you. I would make a voyage to South' 
America — to that glorious new country, where -gold and. 
silver ores are plentiful as dirt. Hithei-to, none but the 
worthy Spaniards have participated in the riches of Chili, 
of Brazil, of Peru ; I shall he the first Englishman who 
shall set foot on that rich coast ; mine shall be the first 
English ship which shall return laden with the treasures 
of the golden land ; mine shall be the hand that shall 
dispute for the spoils of this fair country with the haughty 
Spaniard. I will hoist the British flag by the side of the 
Spanish standard, and let those proud Dons know, that 
where there is gold and glory to be won, there Englishmen 
vill be." 

Magrath listened to the young sailor in silence, mganling 
him with an earnest glance of pity and contempt. 

"And are you really serious?" he asked at last, with a 
mocking smile. 

"Never more so in my life." 

" And do you imagine that a man can be found to 
advance the money for so wild-goose a chase? How old 
are you, my friend 1 " 

" Twenty years." 

"And you talk of a voyage to South America as a 
London apprentice wouM of a row on the Thames. Why, 
tbf toy is mad !" 

The young man coloured with vexation, and said — 

" Pardon me, Mr. Magrath ; you have known me for 
some time, and know that I am a good and skilful mariner, 
a good seaman, and a good navigator. "What, then, is 
ther* wonderful in a voyage to America 1 What man has 
uone, man may do again." 

" My young friend, I do not deny that you have courage, 
.drill, and intelligence, even beyond your years; for that 


reason I shall not reply to your proposal by a direct 

" Ah ! " interrupted the young man, joyfully, " then yon 
consent ; you will furnish the necessary money ? " 

" Not so fast ; wait a while. You are young, and 
though, as I said, brave and skilful, inexperienced. Wait 
one, two, or three years, then, perhaps, on consideration, I 
might entertain this project of yours, always providing 
that I have the money, or can obtain it." 

The young man looked deeply disappointed. 

" Three years ! and in reply to my request, you tell me 
to wait three years ! And the bond which you had from 
my mother — what of that 1 Do you consent to wait ?— 
for, indeed, we cannot now pay you." 

" The bond— ah ! I had forgotten the bond, my young 
friend. I should only be too happy to oblige you, were it 
in my power, but I cannot. The bond is not in my hands : 
I have paid it away with some other securities. It is now 
in the hands of Aaron Levi, of London." 

" And will he insist on payment 1 " 

Moses Magrath shook his head. 

" I fear so, my friend. Levi is a hard man, a very hard 
man ; and were I in your place, I would be provided with 
the money on the day it is due." 

" But how — how 1 " asked the young man, distractedly : 
" how can we raise four hundred pounds 1 My mother, 
my sisters, my brothers — you know they have it not" 

The money lender was silent for some time. 

At last he said, " There is your vessel, the Julia." 

"And supposing I sold her, how, then, should I get 
another ? — how should I live ? Well you know that the 
few acres of land my mother and sisters occupy are barely 
sufficient to support them." 


"My young friend, I cannot answer youi (Question. 
Your conversation is very interesting, but in business time 
is money. I have some accounts to go over, and must 
attend to them at once." 

So saying, he rose ; and going to a large desk covered 
with papers in the corner of the room, seated himself 
at it. 

Erancis Drake, knowing anything he could say to the 
miser would be futile, turned to leave, sad enough at the 
failure of his errand. 



As he turned to leave the room, and just as he approached 
bhe door, it was suddenly opened, and a man walked 
hurriedly in. 

In proportion as the demeanour of Francis Drake had 
been modest and unassuming, that of the new-comer was 
boisterous and familiar. 

" Hallo, Magrath, you old vampire ! " he cried, " how 
are you to-day 1 I want some money, and that at once ; 
bo make no bones about it, but just write out a receipt 
for five hundred pounds, hand over the gold, and I'll sign 
it, and be off on my business." 

The speaker was a man rather above the middle height, 
swarthy complexioned, and strongly built — dressed with 
a certain amount of elegance, and of rather a pleasing 

At the first words of the stranger, Moses Magrath left 
his seat, and advanced respectfully to meet him. Bowing 
lowly, he said — 


"Sir John Hawkins— the most honourable Sir John 
Hawkins — at my humble abode ! I am only too much 
honoured. Pray be seated, sir. May I offer you any 
refreshment 1 My house, my cellar, my purse, my person 
—all are at your sendee ! " 

On hearing the name of him to whom Moses Magrath 
seemed so obsequious, Francis Drake started, and looked 
ill -pleased. The name was well-known to him, although 
the bearer was personally a stranger. Sir John Hawkins 
was the first Englishman who had conceived and executed 
the project of making his country participate in the enor- 
mous profits, of the slave-trade until that time exclusively 
carried on by the subjects of Philip IL of Spain. Sir 
John Hawkins was a slave-trader. 

Paying but little attention to the bows and servility of 
the old miser, Sir John Hawkins, turning to the young 
mariner, said politely, — 

" Excuse me, sir ; I had not seen you before. Perhaps 
you have business with this old Jew here 1 Finish your 
interview; I will wait my turn." 

Sir John Hawkins spoke very courteously, and Francis 
acknowledged his speech by *i bow. 

Ere he could reply, the old Jew interrupted. 

" On my word," interrupted the miser, " you are wrong 
this time, Sir John. Ask this young man what reply I 
gave to a proposition he made me." 

" What was the proposition, and what was your reply ! " 

" What he asked of me was, sufficient money to pur- 
chase a ship and cargo, in order to make a venture to Peru, 
and return laden with gold." 

" And you replied, I'll be sworn, tbat you had neithe* 
ship, nor cargo, nor money?" 

" You are mistaken this time, Sir John ; my reply was 


a v§fj different one. I said to the young man that I 
woul'jl consider the subject, and possibly, in two or three 
years' time, when he should have gained more experience, 
might comply with his wish." 

"A magnanimous answer, truly !" said Sir John, laugh- 
ing, " and worthy of your caution. You would take it 
into consideration in two or three years ! On my word 
Master Moses, if that is what you call a favourable 
answer, I wonder what an unfavourable one is like V 

"But, my good sir, consider," said the Jew; "this 
young man is only twenty years of age — has never been 
a longer voyage than to Calais or Boulogne — and he asks 
me for sufficient money to buy and freight a ship for a 
long and hazardous voyage to South America." 

" And why not ?" said Sir J^hn; "if the young man ia 
a good and skilful sailor, why should he not navigate 
a ship as well ten thousand miles as twenty ? Captain 
Drake," continued the slave-trader, turning and offering 
his hand to the young man, "I have heard of you— I 
know that you are a daring and a skilful sailor. This old 
miser, in reply to your demand for a ship and cargo, tells 
you to Mait two or three years : that annoys and dis- 
appoints you, does it not 1 " 

" Much, very much, sir ; but even that is not all. Ho 
matter : I will not weary you with my affairs." 

" Well, Captain Drake," continued the slave-trader, 
" attend to me. Mr. Moses here refuses your request : I 
will grant it. Not in two or three years, but, if you 
choose, to-morrow." 

The young man gave a cry of joy. 

" You, sir 1 oh, you are very kind ; but on what 
conditions 1 " 

" Listen ; in place of your going in search of gold 


to the Spanish possessions in Peru and Chili, you shall 
accompany me to the coast of Africa — to Guinea or 
Gambia — whence we will take to St. Domingo a cargo of 
slaves. The profits are enormous, the risk but little; two 
or three successful voyages will realize a sum which shall 
make you the richest man in Kent. What say you ? " 

Francis Drake replied instantly, and without hesitation, 
" I thank you, sir, for your offer, but I refuse it. I will 
never be a slave-trader ; the laws of God and man alike 
condemn it. If you offered me a million of money for 
every drop of the poor creatures' blood, I would refuse it. 
I will never buy and sell my fellow-creatures like dogs, t 
wish a good day, sir." 

So saying, Francis Drake turned and hurried from the 

" The fool ! the idiot !" cried Moses, after he had gone; 
" to refuse your generous offer S The ungrateful pauper ! 
He, without a friend, almost without a shilling, to insult 
your honour by declaring that that trade, which our great 
and glorious Queen Elizabeth declares to be lawful, is con- 
trary to the laws of God and man ! The fool ! the idiot — " 

Sir John Hawkins interrupted him. 

" Hold your tongue, you old fool ! It is you who are 
the idiot, the dolt. Listen to what I now tell you : — that 
young man, who has just gone out, will some day be one 
of the glories of England" 



" This will do, Gideon. On my word, not a very pro 
raising-looking hostelry; but as I, und doubtless, thou. 


art tired, sick, and weary after our rocking and sway- 
ing on board yon cock-boat of a hoy, we will e'en make 
it do." 

" As you will, master ; but it seems to me an over- 
rough place for your honour; and the company, as I 
judge by the noise, shouting, and swearing, is scarcely 
meet for your honour. 'When the wine's in, the wit's 
out ; ' it would ill become you to be led into a brawl in a 
Margate po '-house." 

" Psha^ ! " was the reply ; "if you fear to come in, you 
can stay outside." 

So saying, the speaker pushed open the door, and strode 
mto the tavern. 

" Afraid ! ? ' muttered the other, surlily, who was evi- 
dently a serving-man , •' afraid, forsooth ! By the bones 
of my grandfather, if Gideon Glossop had been troubled 
with many fears, or a nice conscience, thy dainty bones, Sir 
Edward, would ere now have been picked by the crows." 
And Gideon marched his great carcase into the alehouse 
after his master. 

He was right in saying that the company was none of 
the best. Some twenty rough-looking men were assembled 
in the tap-room, drinking, shouting, and quarrelling. All 
had a more or less nautical appearance ; but it would be 
hard to tell whether they were sailors, fishermen or 

The appearance of the two strangers caused a momentary 
silence ; all eyes were cast on the tall form of Sir 
Edward, who, not even honouring the company with a 
glance, seated himself in a corner, and calling for a flagon 
of wine, wrapped his cloak around him, and seemed lost 
in thought. 

As for Gideon, he merely cast a surly, scowling glance 


around him, and followed his master's example, calling foi 
ale instead of wine. 

It almost seemed that Gideon's words were prophetic ; 
for they had scarcely seated themselves, when several of 
the fishermen, smugglers, or whatever they might be, 
commenced making deliberate and offensive remarks upon 
the two strangers. 

" What gay popinjay is yon ?" said one in whose 
dainty eyes poor men are unworthy of notice 1 

These and many other remarks were made in an audible 
tone. However, they produced no effect, apparently, for 
the master still remained buried in thought, while the 
servant merely took long draughts at the ale tankard, 
occasionally scowling round the room like a sleepy bear at 
the company. At last one.' of the loudest and most inso- 
lent, watching his opportunity, took up Gideon's tankard 
of ale, and saying to the astonished man, " Here's to your 
health, comrade ! " drained it off. 

A loud shout of laughter greeted this trick. 

" Bravo, Bully Dick ! " cried several. 

" Sir," said Bully Dick to Gideon, " it is a custom in 
this town for all strangers who enter a tavern to treat the 
frequenters — the old hands. Since you know it, there's 
no harm in my teaching you." 

Loud shouts greeted this speech, which was said with 
much gravity and politeness. 

Gideon took no notice, however, but turning to his 
master, said, — 

'• Your honour, this man has drunk my ale." 

No reply ; the person addressed still remained buried in 

•'He don't hear you," said Bully Dick, tauntingly ; 
" don't you see the gentleman is asleep J With all his fine 


clothes, he means to rob our worthy landlord of the price 
of his bed, and sleep it out on the settle." 

"Sir," said Gideon, again touching his master's arm, 
"they have drunk all my ale." 

"Eh! whaU" said Sir Edward, suddenly arousing 
himself. " Drunk all your ale — well, order some more," 
and again he relapsed into reverie. 

Gideon, muttering something to himself in a low tone, 
ordered the pot-boy to replenish the empty measure. As, 
however, it was being brought to him, Bully Dick, 
encouraged by impunity, said to the lad, — 

" Here, my boy ; these worthy gentlemen don't know 
that it is a custom in Margate for strangers to offer the 
company the tankard before drinking themselves. Bring 
here the tankard." 

The boy seeing that Gideon and the strange gentle- 
man had put up with the first insult, thought that doubt- 
less they would likewise bear this. But he was mistaken. 
Sir Edward had aroused himself from his fit of ab- 

Gideon glanced towards him, and caught his eye. 

He made a sign with his hand. 

Instantly Gideon bounded between the boy and Bully 
Dick, who held out his hand for the tankard. 

"No, you don't, my lad," said Gideon; "that's my 
master's ale, and I mean to drink it." 

" What the devil's the meaning of this 1" said Bully Dick ; 
" Let the boy pass with the beer, you great oaf. Don't you 
know the custom of the place ? " 

" Look here, my man," said Sir Edward, rising, " the 
meaning is this : I perceive that you are one of those inso- 
lent fellows who require correction " » 

" Oh, indeed ! correction 1" sneered the bully ; *' and 


tvlio's going to correct me, Mr. Popinjay? Yourself 

" Mo ? No, indeed ; I 'would not soil my hands with 
your dirty carcase. I have to do with higher game than 
such canaille, as you." 

" Perhaps, then, it is that great bullock before me who 
will give me a lesson ? " 

" That is as I please," said the stranger, quietly ; " but 
I warn you, for your own sake, to shun a quarrel with 
him ; because that 'bullock,' as you call him, will toss you 
on his horns in a manner you will little like." 

"Oh! he will, will he?" said Bully Dick, contemptuously. 
" Let us see — and then, when I have disposed of him, we 
will see what you are made of, my fine bird." 

" A ring — a ring ! make a ring for Bully Dick !" was 
the cry. 

Soon a ring was formed around the two combatants. 
Bully Dick was a notorious pugilist, and, presuming 
on his strength, and the skill which practice had given 
him, thought he had an easy victory. He was strong, 
nimble, and hardy, and knew all those dodges and tricks 
familiar to ancient as well as modern pugilists. 

This being the case, the greater part of the com- 
pany thought he would achieve an easy victory over the 

But there were some who surveyed the brawny arms., 
the bull neck, and, above all, massive, broad chest of 
Gideon with some misgiving as to the result. Nor did 
the cool, deliberate maimer in which the Cornishman 
rolled up his shirt-sleeves — displaying the tough muscles, 
which stood forth almost in lumps on his rough, airy arms 
— reassure them. They had seen such men before — men 
the very type of an Englishman — lazy, inert, and stupid, 


somewhat slow to engage in a fray, but very, very mucH 
glower, when once engaged, to come out. 

Bully Dick stripped off his jerkin and shirt, and threw 
them behind him. 

" Ain't you going to strip V said one of the smugglers 
to Gideon, seeing that he contented himself with merely 
rolling up his shirt-sleeves 

" There's no need for it," said Gideon, lazily ; " this affair 
won't take long, I trow." 

"Let the fool go his own way," said Bully Dick, sneer- 
ingly ; " perhaps he thinks to save his body by keeping his 
clothes on ? No matter — I can afford him the advantage." 

So saying, the speaker stepped into the ring, put him- 
pelf into attitude, and contemplated his adversary with a 
look of the greatest contempt. 

And, in good truth, to a judge of the art of boxing, the 
appearance of this latter was sufficiently ridiculous. 

Gideon lumbered lazily into the ring, with folded arms, 
and, advancing close to Dick, said, " ]S T ow, I am ready." 

" Put your hands up, man !" shouted several, in derision, 
seeing that he still kept his arms folded carelessly across 
his chest ; " he'll kill you !" 

"All right," again repeated the Cornishman; "I'm 

Scarcely were the words out of his mouth before Bully 
Dick dashed out his left hand full at the face of his foe. 

Gideon started back to avoid it ; but so qui k and true 
was the hit delivered, that it took full effect on the mouth, 
making his teeth rattle. A crimson stream of blood fol- 
lowed the blow instantly. 

A shout of triumph from Dick's partisans. 

A cry of rage from Gideon. By the force of the blow 
be had been driven back to the very walL Suddenly ro- 


covering himself, however, he hurled himself full on his 

In vain Dick guarded, retired, and hit out twice, each 
time cutting open the Cornishman's face, and making the 
blood fly ; still the other pressed on to the grapple. 
Dick retreated to the very wall. 

One more blow he dashed on the other's face, when 
Gideon was upon him. 

In an instant the heavy arms of the Cornish man were 
around him, with a terrible hug like that of a boa-con- 

In vain he struggled and gasped. Tighter, still tighter, 
grew that terrible hug. 

At last the Cornishman got his left arm around the other's 
neck. If Dick's case was bad before, it was worse now. 

Freeing his right arm, Gideon, still holding him in a 
vice-like grasp, commenced pommelling the face and body 
of the pugilist. 

Thump, thump, the blows resounded on the body and 
face of Bully Dick. The blood spurted out in copious 
streams, the eyes puffed up and swelled almost instantly 
under the terrible visitations of Gideon's right hand. 

Desperately the other struggled to free himself — in 
vain ! 

" That's the Cornish hug /" grunted Gideon, sarcastically. 
" How do you like it ?" 

Dick made another desperate struggle to free himself ; 
he was almost successful. Gideon shifted his grip, but it 
was only to obtain a fresh one. 

"And this is the Cornish back-throw !" shouted Gideon 
<51ossop, having obtained the desired hold. Then Bully 
Dick's legs went high in the air ; helplessly as an infant 
he was flun^c over the other's hip, and was throw** on ws 


head and shoulders to a distance of some spaces, where he 
lay, a stunned, bruised, and bleeding mass of humanity, 
utterly insensible. 

''• There," grunted Gideon, wiping the blood from his 
own face ; " I think I have taken the conceit out of your 
bully. Would anyone else like to try a bout ?" And the 
burly Cornishman glared around like a bear who has 
tasted blood. 

" Foul play !" shouted several ; " foul — it was a foul 
grip 1" 

"Yes, foul — foul ! Down with him !" 

A friend of Dick's now rose, and pointed to the bully's 
senseless form, addressed the company. 

"Comrades, Dick has been beaten, it is true, but not 
fair. This big brute gripped him foul. Am I right ?" 

" Yes, yes — foul ! Down with the great brute ! Split 
liis head open ! Down with him !" shouted several, crow 
oiing around Gideon, who, backing up in a corner, stood 
at bay. He had armed himself with the log of a settle, 
which had been broken in the scuffle. 

Several ot the smugglers — for such they were — armed 
themselves with whatever they could find, and prepared 
to throw themselves on the Cornishman. 

Suddenly the stranger bounded to his feet, and dashing 
through them, shouted — 

" Cowards ! Six to one ! Do you call yourselves 
Englishmen V 

" Down with them !" cried one of the nearest, aiming 
■« blow at the speaker. 

Instantly, with the quickness of thought, this rattc 
struck the man full in the mouth with the pommel of the. 
short heavy sword he carried ; then he placed himself with 
iiis back to the wall, by the side of his servant 


"Come on," he cried, "all of you, and I'll let some of 
your blood out !" At the same time he made his sword 
whistle in the air. 

For a moment the others hesitated. They did not like 
the look of that bare steel, nor did they fancy the ease and 
skill with which the stranger wielded it. 

They well knew that at least one of their number would 
certainly be run through the body. 

Suddenly a pistol was fired by one of them. The ball 
passed through the hat of the stranger. 

"Gideon," said the latter, "we must fight our way out, 
or we shall be shot down like dogs. These ruffians have 

Then shouting aloud, and waving his sword, he prepared 
to cut his way through them, or fall in the attempt. 

" Stand back, you paltry cowards," he cried, "or I'll 
dpit you like larks ! A Dudley — a Dudley to the 
rescue !" 



Scarcely had the stranger, who was called Sir Edward, 
shouted these words, than two men dashed through, and 
ranged themselves by his side. 

They bore a striking resemblance to each other ; they 
were evidently brothers. 

" Shame on you, cowards ! — shame on you ! " cried one ; 
"seven of ycu to two, and one unarmed. Eall back, 
and let these gentlemen pass, or it will be worse for you !" 

Already, however, the nimble sword of the stranger had 



wounded two of his assailants. These, smarting with 
rage and pain, still pressed on. 

" Down with them !" cried one of these, presenting a 
pistol, which, however, one of the two brothers struck 
up ; " down with them, and down with the brothers 
Drake, if they take their part." 

" Down with the brothers Drake," shouted another. 

Still, however, the four men kept their enemies at bay. 

But, now, with cries of "Down with the brothers 
Drake !" more than one pistol is produced and primed. 

Suddenly a fresh actor appears on the scene. 

"Who says, 'Down with the brothers Drake?'" he 
cried, pushing his way through them. " Down with the 
Drakes, eh ? We will see. Here is yet another brother 
Drake. Stand back, you ruffians — down with your 
pistols," and the speaker, snatching one from the hands 
of the nearest, hit him a blow across the head, and ad- 
vanced menacingly towards the others. 

"It's Captain Drake," muttered several; "Captain 
Francis Drake." 

Strange to say, they seemed cowed at once. 

These rough, drunken, and furious men recognized a 
master spirit, and fell back abashed. 

"Down with your pistols ! " continued Captain Drake, 
glancing round with flashing eye at those who had pro- 
duced firearms; "down with your weapons, every man of 
you !" 

Slowly and surlily they obeyed. 

" ]S ow, what is all this about 1 Speak, some of you !" 

" Why, that fellow there fought with Bully Dick, and 
has wellnigh killed him." 

" And is that any reason, curs that you are, that you 
i. hould all of you set upoD ■'ids man f 


Then, turning towards the stranger and Gideon, and 
bowing politely, he said, — 

"Sir, I hope these fellows have not injured you in any 
way — the ruffians ! I have a great mind to give some of 
them a lesson !" 

There was no fear now of a renewal of hostilities ; so 
he whom G-ideon had called Sir Edward, advanced, and 
lowering his sword, said, — 

" I thank you, gentlemen, for the assistance you have 
afforded us." Then to his late adversaries, — 

" Men, I warned your friend Dick that in my servant 
he would find a tough customer. He did not choose to 
take my waning, and he has reaped the consequence. 
This man, Bully Dick, deserved some punishment for 
his insolence. Perhaps, however, my servant, in his just 
anger, inflicted a more severe one than he deserved. Such 
being the case, and as I see that he is not dead, though so 
bruised about the face as to render it difficult for his 
mother to recognize him, I, of my own free will, and with 
no fear of you or twenty other such cowardly ruffians, 
will give him something to pay the surgeon's bill, for, if 
I mistake not, that last fall disjointed his shoulder. Here, 
fellow," continued the speaker, addressing Dick, "here 
are a dozen crowns for you. Profit by the lesson you 
have received, and beware another time how you insult a 
gentleman or his servant." 

Dick, who had recovered and gathered himself from 
the ground, took the money willingly enough, and slunk 
off to get Ms hurt shoulder attended to. 

And so the affair terminated. The stranger, inviting 
the three brothers who had so gallantly come to his 
assistance to join him, seated himself again at the table, 
id called for wine. 


" Thank you, sir," said Captain Drake, in reply to this 
invitation ; n you are very kind ; but my brothers and 
myself are obliged to return at once to Ramsgate." 

" Ramsgate !" exclaimed Sir Edward, joyfully ; " I also 
am going there, in order to get a vessel for the coast of 

Captain Drake thought for a moment. 

" In that case, sir, it is fortunate I saw you. Since you 
wisb to go to France, I will myself take you in my little 
craft, if it pleases you." 

" If it pleases me V said the stranger, joyfully. " Cer- 
tainly it pleases me. And so you are the captain of the 
vessel 1 Nothing could be more fortunate. ISTow I hope 
you and your brothers will partake of some refreshment 
before we start, since I am to be your passenger. Gideon, 
get some more glasses, and another bottle — quickly. At 
what hour shall we sail, Captain Drake 1" he continued. 

" At any time you please." 

" I am not pressed for time ; so, if you have any 
arrangements to make before starting, you can do so." 

" I have no business to attend to, sir," was the reply ; 
" but since you are so complaisant, I will go first to say 
a few words to my mother before setting out." Then 
turning to his brother : " I have seen Magrath, Michael, 
and the answer I bring to our mother is — There is no 

This was said in a very mournful voice ; and, to the 
astonishment of the stranger, he perceived that the eyes 
of Captain Drake were moist with tears. 

" Strange," he thought, " that this young man, before 
if hose glance those drunken ruffians shrank back in 
f ear — strange that he should be thus soft-hearted as a 
o-irl 1 There must be some mystery here." 



Francis Drake remained, for some time leaning his head 
on his hand, apparently in deep grief. Suddenly he 
aroused himself, and, filling his glass, said, — 

" Pardon me, sir. I was forgetting that the troubles of 
poor devils like myself could not interest a gentleman 
such as you. Here's to your health, gallant sir, and a 
pleasant voyage across the Channel. But, as for that, you 
may set your mind at rest. The wind is fair, and mine is 
a gallant little craft. In three hours from the time we 
sail, I will land you on the coast of France." 

The stranger nodded his head carelessly. " In three 
hours, six hours, or six days — it matters not to me ; so 
that I arrive there some time, I care not. Come, let us 
set out for Eamsgate. "What is the distance, Captain 
Drake 1" 

"Four miles." 

In half an hour more, the three brothers Drake, Gideon, 
and Sir Edward were on the road to Eamsgate. 

They walked in silence for some time, the brothers 
leading the way, while the Cornishman and his master 
brought up the rear. 

Presently the latter, quickening his pace, overtook the 

"A word with you," he said to Francis, who had been 
called Captain Drake. 

" One word, two words, a hundred words, if you please,' 
said Francis, leaving Michael and George, and falling back 

" My name is Sir Edward Dudley," said the stranger ; 
" I am a gentleman — 1 am rich ; I understand, or fancied 
I understood, that you had some grief or sorrow on your 
mind. You said that you must take back word to your 
mother ' there is no hope.' Just now you said that the 
troubles of poor devils like you could not interest a gentle- 


man like me. "Well, supposing you are wrong, and that 
your troubles do interest me— that for reasons of my own, 
on account of the gallant manner in which you came to 
my assistance to-day — from fancy, caprice, what you will — 
your troubles do interest me, and that I am disposed to 
assist you — to be a friend, a father V 

"You, sir," said the young sailor; "and why should 
you assist me 1 why should I find in you a friend — a 

" That is my business," was the reply ; " it is enough 
that I am willing so to do — that I am willing to be your 

" Sir, I thank you for your good wishes. I but just 
now was refused by one man that which I asked, and was 
compelled to refuse it when offered by another." 

" Well, let us come to the point. What is this which 
you require 1 ?" 

'' I will first, sir, with your permission, say a few words 
of myself. I am the son of a worthy but poor clergyman 
of this county. Five years ago he died, leaving my mother, 
myself, two brothers, and three sisters, in great poverty. 
By the kind assistance of friends my mother was enabled 
to take a small dairyfarm, on which she and my sisters 
live. I and my two brothers, as the readiest means of 
contributing to the general fund, embraced a seafaring life. 
I was but fourteen when I went to sea with the captain of 
a coasting vessel, with whom I remained for four years. 
At the expiration of that time my old captain, having 
realized a competence, resolved to retire. He said to me, 
4 Francis, it is now your turn to be captain ; that little 
vessel in which we have braved so many storms together, is 
yours ; take her, and good luck go with you.' This was in 
1561, I was eighteen years of age at the time, and when 


I found myself captain of a vessel my own property, I 
thought I had nothing more to desire in the world. My 
two elder brothers, Will and Michael, joined me, and for 
two years we traded backwards and forwards between this 
and the coast of France. During this time we made some 
unfortunate ventures ; twice our little bark was dismasted 
in a gale, and she was so much injured as to render it neces- 
sary that we should have her docked and repaired — a very 
great expense, and one we could ill afford. To add to om 
troubles, a creditor of my poor father's, of whom we had 
long lost sight, suddenly appeared and demanded from my 
mother payment of the large amount still due to him. 
What was to be done ; we had recourse to a money-lender ; 
at exorbitant interest we borrowed four hundred pounds 
for six months, trusting that during that time something 
would turn up which would enable us to repay him. Alas ! 
since then things are rather worse. The bond falls due in 
a few days, and our only chance of paying it is by selling 
my poor little craft ; and then — and then, sir, what are we 
to do ?" 

" Cheer up, my young friend," said the stranger, " we 
will see what can be done presently. I am well disposed 
towards you. I am a gentleman ; I am rich, and — why 
should I hesitate to say it? — I am generous. So, once 
again, cheer up, and continue your narration. What is 
this project of which you spoke just now V 

" It is one, sir, perhaps perilous, but which if executed 
will make the fortune of myself and the man who joins me 
in it. You are aware, sir, that Spain is mistress of half the 
New World discovered by her. Spain has the exclusive 
monopoly of penetrating the interior of Peru and Chili, to 
procure the gold and silver which is there so abundant. 
And is there no means of procuring a part of that sold and 


silver ? Are the Spaniards alone to grow rich from the 
spoils of the new land 1 No ! There is a means at once 
simple and honourable, by which I trust to enrich myself 
and comrades. It is by commerce. Hitherto the Indians 
have received nothing but chains from their conquerors in 
exchange for the wealth they have given them. Well, 
what I wish is to alleviate the sufferings of these unfortu- 
nates by allowing them to participate little by little in the 
benefits of civilization. My cargo should be composed of 
all sorts of merchandize suited to their use, but principally 
of articles of the necessity. When first Pizarro and his 
companions first discovered Peru all they had to do to 
procure as much land as they Avished was to make the 
Indians drunk ; far be it from me to resort to such dis- 
graceful means. No ; once again, I repeat, it is as an 
honest trader, in good faith, that I should wish to land 
on the coast of South America. Nor should I lose by 
such a course, I feel sure ; for the Indians, seeing the 
benefits they received, would become our friends, our 
allies. Who knows but that, profiting by my example, 
the cruel Spaniards may not discover a better mode oi 
utilizing their conquest than by transforming the men of 
the New World into blaves and brutes V 

Francis Drake awaited anxiously for an answer. 

" What sum," said Sir Edward, " should you require to 
carry this project of yours into execution?" 

Francis hesitated before he replied to this question. He 
knew that the answer would prove the sincerity or other- 
wise of his new acquaintance. 

Observing his hesitation, Sir Edward said, — 

" Would two thousand pounds suffice to equip and 
freight a ship ?" 

" 'X-WO thousand pounds J" cried Drake, in astonishment j 


" if I had but the half of it I should consider myself only 
too fortunate. I should be able to say before very long 
to the father of my Julia, ' You have promised me your 
daughter when I am rich. I am rich — give her to me.' " 

" Ah !" said Sir Edward, smiling, " there is love in the 
case, I perceive. It is not so much for the bright ingots 
of the Spaniards as for the bright eyes of the fair Julia 
that you wish to voyage to the Isew World." 

Francis coloured. " And is it a crime, sir, to love ?" 

" Sometimes," muttered the stranger, sadly, in a low 
voice; "sometimes, alas! it is." Then aloud — "No, my 
young friend, it is no crime to love one who is worthy o~' 
you, and of whom you are also worthy." 

There was a silence of some minutes — the stranger seemed 
again buried in a profound reverie. 

Suddenly he aroused himself. " Are we not nearly at 
our destination 1" said he. " What place is this before us ]" 

"That is Eamsgate, and yonder, on the outskirts, is my 
mother's house." 

"If it is not disagreeable to you, I should like to be 
presented to your family. I wish to see more of you and 
your brothers." 

" You do me and them a great honour by saying so, sir. " 

" And then, if also not disagreeable, we will pay a visit 
to the fair Julia. I am curious to see your choice, my 
friend," said Sir Edward, smiling. 

"With all my heart, sir. Julia is as good as she is 
beautiful, and will be pleased to see a gentleman who is 
about to do me so great a kindness." 

Sir Edward now left his companion somewhat abruptly, 
and rejoined his servant Gideon, who was walking some 
twenty paces behind. 

Francis Drake looked after Mm, and muttered to him. 


self, " I wonder if this gentleman is amusing himself at 
my expense. By heavens ! I am in no mood to be played 
with, and if I thought so it should fare ill with him, or 
my name is not Francis Drake. But no — I can scarcely 
believe that ; his manner is frank, kindly, and open. But 
then, two thousand pounds ! It seems, indeed, strange 
that he should be willing to entrust such a sum to a 
stranger. No matter ; we shall see." 

The party had now arrived at his mother's house. 
Francis opened the wicket, and followed by his brothers, 
entered the little garden in front. 

"This way, sir," he said to Sir Edward, who, thus in- 
vited, entered the garden and approached the door, which 
Francis opened. 

Mistress Drake and her daughters were seated at dinner. 
On seeing that her sons brought a stranger with them, she 

" Mother," said Francis, " I have brought with me a 
gentleman who is going with me as a passenger to France 
He has expressed great interest in my affairs, in return for 
Bomo slight aid I and my brothers rendered him. Doubt- 
less he and his servant here will, partake of some refresh- 

"Sir," said the worthy lady, "you are welcome to oui 
humble abode and humble fare. Louisa, my child, two 
more covers as quickly as possible, and get from the cellar 
a tankard of old ale. Sir," she said, addressing Sir Edward, 
" you must excuse our poor fare ; we have neither choice 
dishes nor costly wines to place before you. You see the 
dinner — the ale will be here soon." 

"Indeed, madam," said Edward, gallantly, "I must be 
an epicure indeed could I mot content myself with so good 
and wholesome a repast as I see before me now, especially 


in such charming company as that of these young ladies, 
whom 1 presume to be your daughters." 

" You are right, sir. This is my eldest daughter, Mary 
—this my second, Amy — and this one, who will now fill 
your tankard, is my youngest daughter, Louisa." 

Sir Edward took the cup from the last-named young 
lady, and bowing, said — "Fair ladies ! Misses Mary, Amy, 
and Louisa, I drink your healths ; and yours also, my 
brave young friends," turning to the brothers, "as also 
that of your worthy mother." 

All the young ladies were handsome, but Sir Edward 
was particularly struck by the gentle Amy, an adorable 
little blonde of seventeen. 

" And which of these three young ladies and four boys 
is your favourite, Mistress Drake 1 ?" said Sir Edward. 
" I should imagine it would be difficult to give one the 
preference over the other? " 

"You are right, sir," said the mother; "they are all 
alike my children, and all possess an equal share of nrj 
love ; but it is not so witii the Captain here — I mean 
Francis, for we call him the Captain— thcugh he is the 
youngest of my sons, with the exception of Harry. It is 
not so with him, sir. He has no eyes rior ears for any 
of his brothers and sisters, except little Amy here and 

Amy nestled close up to her brother Francis, taking his 
strong hand in both hers, evidently pleased at her mother's 
words, as to Francis's preference for her. 

"Fie on you, Amy!" continued her mother, "to steal 
all your brother's love, to the detriment of the others ! " 

Amy merely made a charming little grimace, in reply to 
this, laying her head on the shoulder of Francis, who 
played fondly with her soft brown hair, 


"Fout o'clock," said Sil Edward, looking at his watch. 
" Sir Francis, or rather Captai:i Francis, is it not time we 
paid that other visit I spoke of to you 1 " 

"As you please, sir,'' said Francis ; " I have finished my 
dinner, and am at your service." 

In the Drake family no one ever thought of questioning 
Francis. It was enough that he considered a thing right 
and proper— so great an ascendancy had he acquired, 
merely by inherent force of character. 

Sir Edward rose, and turning to Mistress Drake, said, 
"I will not bid you adieu, madam nor you, young- 
ladies, for I trust I shall see you again ; for I do not think 
I shall leave for France before to-morrow, which I trust 
will suit Captain Drake here equally well." 

"It is all the same to me, sir," said Francis ; " to- 
morrow or to-morrow week." 

" And to me also," said Sir Edward, laughing. " T sup- 
pose I shall land in France some day ; but, on my word, I 
feel in no hurry about it." 

Francis thought to himself, " I wonder what object this 
gentleman has in delaying his journey. Certainly he has 
some reason. I would give something to know the mean- 
ing of this sudden interest, real or affected, which he takes 
in me or mine. My sisters - ah ! they are young and 
charming ! — can he have seen them before 1 or have heard 

of their grace and beauty? If I thought so " and a 

look came over the young man's face, which boded ill to 
any one who should presume to address the fair sisters 
Drake dishonourably. 

"I don't think," said Sir Edward, suddenly, as he and 
Francis went out together, followed by Gideon, " that we 
want any servant. Here, Gideon," he added, "you amuso 
you? self for an hour about the town. You will be better 


there than waiting outside the house of Miss Julia. What 
is the young lady's other name, Captain Drake ? " 
" Julia Eansom." 

" Julia Ransom — what a pretty name ! and I'll be bound 
the young lady is also pretty — eh, Francis 1 " 

"Beautiful as an angel, and as good," was the reply. 
" She must be good-tempered also," said Sir Edward, 
laughing, "if she permits you thus to introduce a stranger, 
without notice, merely from curiosity. What excuse shall 
you make for bringing me 1 " 

"What excuse!" said Francis, puzzled. "I had not 
thought of that." 

" Well, certainly, it is not customary, I presume, for a 
lover to bring a stranger to his sweetheart's house merely 
to show her to him. What is the father by trade 1 " 

" Her father, John Eansom, is a working jeweller. He 
keeps a small shop in the High Street." 

" A jeweller ! Bravo ! that will do capitally. I want 
some of his wares. You can say that I am your passenger, 
and that you have recommended me to him. Thus, you 
see, there will be nothing extraordinary in my visit; and, 
having finished business with the father, you can introduce 
me to the daughter. Eh, what say you 1 " 

"As you please, sir," said Francis; "but wc are at the 

They stopped outside a small shop. 
Francis entered, followed by the stranger. 




John Eansom, the jeweller, of Eamsgate, was a good 
craftsman, and a fairly good father. 

One fault, however, he had, and a very serious one : 
John Eansom was a drunkard. He drank hard, and he 
drank gin. To do him justice, however, he had sufficient 
sense to put some restraint on his inclinations. He only 
got drunk once a week ; but, as that bout lasted two days, 
and he was two more getting sober, there was not much 
time left for business. Thus it happened, that, although 
John Eansom was a good jeweller 1 , and had been well to 
do, he was now living almost from hand to mouth — just 
making sufficient during his sober days to maintain him- 
self and daughter Julia in comfort. 

John Eansom was not a young man— he was fast ap- 
proaching his sixtieth year ; and he discovered that lat- 
terly, during his sober time, he could no longer, with the 
same ease as formerly, make sufficient money for the next 
week's carousal and the household expenses. 

This grieved him much ; for, he argued, " Sooner or 
later I shall be too old to work at all ; what, then, shall I 
do for my food, my pipe, and my bottle 'i " 

A bright idea struck him : his daughter Julia was 
young and handsome ; she should have a rich husband ; 
and, instead of giving her a dowry, the husband shoidd 
give the father a good round sum for his handsome 

A capital idea ! thought John Eansom ; and forthwith 
he proceeded to act upon it. Francis Drake was almost 


the first suitor who appeared in the field for his daughter's 
hand. John Kansom said to him at once : — 

"Young man, I am old, and am not getting younger. 
I am poor, and even now can with difficulty earn enough 
for myself and daughter. I must live — I must have my 
pipe and my bottle. You want my daughter for your 
wife : well, you shall have her when you can give me a 
gum of money sufficient to keep me and get me my bottle 
for the remainder of my life." 

One might have thought that such a proposal would 
have disgusted a young man like Francis, who considered 
Irunkenness as disgraceful to the character of man ; one 
would have thought that he would have recoiled with 
horror from the prospect of having to call "father" a dis- 
gusting old sot, going down to his grave step by step ; a 
laughing-stock to his neighbours — a misery to himself. 

But such was his love for the fair Julia, that it overbore 
every other consideration. His reply, then, to the old 
man's ultimatum was, — 

" Let it be as you say, Master Ransom ; I will become 
rich ; and on the day I marry your daughter I will give 
you sufficient to insure you your bottle and pipe for the 
remainder of your days." 

" Good ! " said John Eansom, chuckling. " In that 
case, my lad, have your own way : the girl shall be yours. 
But I advise you to make haste in becoming rich, for 
Julia is handsome and amiable, and some other suitor 
richer than you may appear." 

" And you would then throw me over ? " asked the 
young man. 

" Assuredly," was the cool reply. " Life is short ; I am 
old, and must take my rest and empty my bottle. First 
come, first served, Master Francis." 

« * 9 % • 


This state of affairs between Francis and thp girl was 
another reason for his anxiety to voyage to the New World 
in search of wealth. He expected to realize by that voyage 
a fortune for himself, a competence for his mother and 
family, and to perform his promise to old John Eansom, 
and claim his bride. 

On entering the little shop, they found the old man 

A thin, miserable, decrepit little man he was. Drink 
and dissipation had done its work ; and he looked even 
older than time had rendered him. 

" Master Eansom," said Francis, " I have brought you 
& customer." 

The old man leapt with unexpected agility from his 
seat, and placing his spectacles on his nose, took a survey 
of the new-comer. Apparently this was satisfactory, for 
he said, — 

" Welcome, gentle sir, welcome ! How can I serve 
you V 

" I require," said Sir Edward, " : a gold chain by which 
\o suspend my Cross of St. George, and also I wish this 
ivory miniature to be reset and repaired ; you observe 
that some of the stones are missing, and you must replace 

The old man gazed first with wonder and then with 
blank dismay at the small medallion. The whole stock 
of his shop would not suffice to purchase one of the 
missing gems ; nor, indeed, did he know how to procure 
the gold for a chain, to such rack and ruin had he 
brought a once profitable business. 

" My conscience !" exclaimed Eansom, "but these are 
bonny gems ; I warrant they cost your honour many a 
golden pound. And the chain — of what fashion, weight, 
and quality will you have it V 


"The fashion I leave to you, master jeweller ; as to the 
weight, it must not be less than ten ounces, and the gold 
must be of the best." 

The old man was completely aghast. Ten ounces of 
gold — ten ounces ! Why, he had not the wherewithal to 
buy an ounce. 

At last he faltered out, in confusion — 

"And when would your honour's lordship require them 1" 

" Pest !" said Sir Edward, emphatically ; " as soon as 
they are finished, of course, man !" 

"But, your honour," faltered the jeweller, "I am a 
poor man ; I work hard, but make little profit. I " 

" Well, what is it you want to say ? If you make but 
little profit, here is a good chance for you ; for as you do 
your work well, I will pay you well." 

" Yes, your honour," said Eansom, colouring up and 
looking still more confused ; " but the ten ounces of gold 
for the chain — I am a poor man, and have not the where- 
withal to purchase them." 

"Soho! hat is it, is it?" said Sir Edward, laughing. 
•* A pretty jeweller, forsooth, who has not sufficient gold to 
make a paltry ten-ounce chain !" 

" This must be some great nobleman," muttered the old 
man ; " he talks of a ' paltry ten-ounce chain.'" 

"Well, no matter," continued the liberal customer, "I 
will give you the money to buy the gold ; I suppose, too» 
you have not the jewels to replace those missing from the 

" Your honour is as wise as he is noble. Indeed, I an 
but a poor man, and 'twould drive me to my wits' end to 
procure even one of the jewels." 

Sir Edward made no reply, but remained buried ia 



" Ah ! now I think of it," he exclaimed, suddenly, " I 
have changed my mind" 

A look of intense dismay came over the jeweller's face. 
" And you will not have the gold chain V he said, 

" I did not say that ; but now I think of it, this is an 
out-of-the-way place. I should not like to leave the 
choice of the mode and fashion entirely to you ; I should 
like to consult and have advice on the matter. You 
understand ¥' 

" Oh, perfectly, your honour ; your lordship *s quite 

"Yes," continued Sir Edward, "I am decidedly of 
opinion that it would be unwise to leave the choice of the 
mode and fashion of workmanship entirely to you. Have 
you no assistants, no workmen, Master Kansom?" 

" Alas ! your honour, I am a poor man ; I do all the 
work myself. My daughter attends to the shop, and 
occasionally assists me." 

" Ah ! your daughter — exactly. My young friend here 
told me that you had a daughter — Miss Julia, I think he 
said. "Well, Master Eansom, I should like the assistance 
of your daughter's taste as to the fashion of my chain." 

A malicious twinkle might be observed in the old 
jeweller's eyes, as he replied, turning to Francis,— 

" Aha ! Mr. Francis, you have been talking of Julia to 
this gentleman 1 So you think that, because he has 
business with the father, he should consult the daughter ? 
No matter ; the gentleman should have his wish, but my 
daughter is not within." 

"Out!" said Francis, looking disappointed; "and 
where has she gone 1 Will she be long before she re- 


"'Where is she 1 Will she be long ?'" said the old man. 
" Well, as to where she is, she is gone round to a neigh- 
bour's house ; as to her being long, see there !" and he 
pointed through the open window. " Here she comes !" 

Looking through the window, Francis and Sir Edward 
saw a young girl approaching. She opened the door of 
the shop, and, seeing a stranger, paused for a moment. Sir 
Edward turned towards her, and regarded her fixedly for 
a second. 

He turned as pale as a corpse, and could not restrain a 
cry of astonishment. 

" What ails you, sir V said Francis, surprised at the ciy 
and the sudden pallor. 

" Nothing — nothing," murmured the other, still gazing 
fixedly at Julia. " Strange, strange ! it is fated that I am 
to be the friend and protector of these two young people." 

In the meantime, Julia, agitated, frightened at the 
emotion her appearance excited in the strange gentleman 
— at the cry and the sudden pallor — remained on the 
threshold of the door. 

Francis had spoken truly ; Julia Eansom was very 
beautiful. She had large, soft blue eyes, a fine complexion, 
a straight nose, rich pouting lips ; and her fine white 
forehead was shaded by wavy braids of brown hair. She 
had an elegant and well-developed figure, with small 
hands and feet — certainly a rarity among girls of her station. 

Sir Edward was the first to break the silence. 

" Young lady," he said, " pardon me for being unable 
to restrain my emotion on seeing you — I will explain th 
reason. I see in you the living image of a well-beloved 
person, whom I have lost, through my own fault, sine 
five years ago. That person is my sister. n 


The voice in which Sir Edward said these words. "It is 
my sister," was so sad, so deeply mournful, that both 
Julia and Francis felt an emotion of pity. He took one 
hand of each of the young people. 

"There !" he said, with a violent effort mastering him 
self, and affecting a cheerful tone ; " it is over now. The 
momentary weakness caused by a sad memory has passed : 
think no more of it. Master Eansom," he continued, 
" I think decidedly that it is unnecessary to trouble your 
daughter about my chain — I will leave it to your discretion. 
Here are fifty pounds ; go at once and procure the gold 
necessary for the chain." 

The old jeweller took the money, his eyes sparkling at 
this fresh proof of his customer's liberality. Not that he 
was blind to the pretext on which he was to be sent out. 
He knew perfectly well that the strange gentleman wished 
to be rid of his company, in order to speak to his daughter 
alone. Now, although he felt ill-pleased at being thus 
summarily dismissed on so flimsy an excuse, he was too 
polite to say so. He held the fifty pounds in his hand, 
and after a moment's hesitation, said, " I will go this in- 
stant, your honour ;" and taking his hat, went out, leaving 
Francis, Julia, and Sir Edward alone together. 

Francis had informed Julia in a few words how and 
where he had met the stranger, and also all that followed, 
with the promises of assistance made by the latter. 

" Young lady," said Sir Edward, suddenly, " you love 
' Francis Drake ?" 
; Julia blushed, but replied frankly, " I do, sir." 

"With your whole heart?" 

Julia and Francis both gave the questioner a half- 
ffended glance j then the former replied, — 


u I have given my heart to Francis, in exchange foi 
his ; I hope his love will be eternal, as mine will." 

" Eternal !" said Sir Edward, sadly ; " is anything eternal 
or everlasting in this world ? I believe you, young lady ; 
and for that reason I say, Hope on — hope always." 

Sir Edward had again taken the hand of the young girl, 
and fixing his eyes on her, was about to continue. 

All at once he started back — absolutely recoiled from 
the fair being before him as though she were a hideous 
object. A strange look of terror and uneasiness was on 
his face. 

" Eo, no i" he. cried ; " this trial is too great for me — I 
cannot bear it ! I cannot remain here. That likeness — 
that fatal likeness — it drives me mad ! Francis — Julia — 
pardon me now ; some day I will tell you alL Adieu !" 

So saying, Sir Edward turned from the house, leaving 
the young people in utter amazement at his strange manner 
and abrupt departure. 

Women — even the most inexperienced — have an in- 
stinctive feeling and sympathy for the sorrows of others. 

" Why do you wait here 1" said Julia to Francis. " Do 
you not understand why that gentleman has left so 
hurriedly 1 It pains him to look at me, because I bear a 
resemblance to a friend whom he has lost — who is, per- 
haps, dead. Go, Francis ; hasten to follow and console 
him. Is he not our friend 1 Has he not kindly promised 
to assist you? Go, then, at once." 

Francis pressed his lips on the forehead of the young 
girl, and hastened after his passenger. He caught him up, 
when Sir Edward, stopping suddenly in his course, fixed 
his eyes on the young man's face, and said, — 

" Francis, you think me mad or foolish, doubtless ; but 
I repeat to you, I will some day explain to you the cause 


of my strange conduct — of my emotion at first seeing that 
young girl." 

He then resumed his walk ; and striding on at a rapid 
pace, they were soon close to the little garden- wicket of 
Mistress Drake. They heard the sound of merry voices 
and loud laughter from the interior. 

" Hark !" said Francis ; " my brothers and sisters seem 
to be making merry." 

" And why not 1 They are young and light-hearted, 
and know not the sorrows of this world. Let them laugh 
and be happy." 

So saying, they both entered together. 



After the departure of Sir Edward Dudley and Francis, 
Julia remained anxiously waiting for the return of her 
father. Nor was her anxiety without foundation ; for 
knowing the old man's unfortunate failing, she had reason 
to fear lest his propensity should overpower both his 
reason and honesty, and that he might be tempted to spend 
a part of the money entrusted to him by his customer. 

Hour after hour the young girl remained mournfully 
waiting for the return of her dissolute father in vain. He 
came not. 

Full of anxiety, her worst fears almost confirmed, Julia 
felt ready to weep with vexation and shame, when her 
attention was called to a stranger who entered the shop. 

" Good morrow, fair damsel," he said, in a gay, good- 
tone; " I trust I disturb vouaot. Passing bv 


just now, I observed the sign over your shop, ' Jeweller 
and working silversmith' I have need of the services of 
some of your handicraftmen, for this morning, by some 
mischance, this gold and emerald ring fell from my toilet- 
table, and unfortunately placing my heel on it, I have 
sadly crushed and bent it. One of the stones, too, has 
come adrift from its bed, and others are somewhat loosened. 
Have you any of your workmen about, who can see about 
it at once, for I prize it greatly 1" 

The speaker was an exceedingly handsome man, of some 
five or six-and-twenty years of age. His apparel was 
costly, and by his general manner and tone he appeared 
to be a person of quality. His doublet was of the richest 
silk, and his mantle of the most costly Genoa velvet. He 
wore a low-crowned, cavalier hat, with a large and sweep- 
ing feather. 

Around his neck, suspended by a gold chain, he wore 
what appeared to be a foreign order, while the English 
Cross of St. George also bespoke a person of consideration. 

" I am very sorrow, sir, my father is not within." 

" But have you no journeyman who can see to this at 
once 1" 

The young girl coloured with shame as she replied — 
" We are too poor to keep journeymen, sir ; my father and 
myself do all." 

The stranger looked annoyed, but gazed with evident 
admiration on the singularly beautiful girl before him. 

Julia remained standing with downcast eyes before 
her distinguished-looking visitor. She could not but be 
conscious of his fixed gaze, and looked half -vexed, half- 

" Humph !" said the stranger ; "awkward, too. A strange 
town this of yours, where there is only one jeweller's shop, 


and even there one cannot get served. At least, I have 
only been able to discover one — know you of another, fair 
damsel ?" 

" No, sir ; there is no other in the town. It is not often 
we are troubled with many grand folks, who are over- 
burdened with old jewellery to be repaired, or with money 
to purchase new. But, sir, as you are so anxious about 
the ring, perhaps " 

The young girl here hesitated diffidently. 

"Well, young lady, perhaps what?" said the cavalier, 
smilingly regarding her confusion. 

" Well, sir, perhaps I might repair it myself. I often 
assist my father in his work. Indeed, lately " 

Again she checked herself ; for she was about to say 
that lately she had a far greater share in the week's earn- 
ings than her father. 

" Well, young lady, hesitating agavp. t So fair and so 
bashful ; fie on you ! Speak out." 

" No, sir, it matters not. I merely wished to say that 
I had sufficient skill to repair the ring myself, if you please 
to entrust it to me." 

" A thousand thanks, sweet damsel of the blue eyes. 
I promise you that you shall be well repaid for it ; for, 
rather than quarrel about the price, I will gladly throw a 
kiss in." 

Julia coloured to the temples, and replied proudly — 

" I thank you, sir, but I am not what you take me for. 
I want not your kisses, nor the offer of them, for all your 
silk doublet, velvet, and plumed hat. I am an honest 
tradesman's daughter, and I pray you to treat me as such, 
nor bandy your soft speeches and courtly flattery with me. 
If it please you to leave the ring, I will do my best — if 
uot, I wish you a good eve," 


So saying, Julia bowed, with, a grace which would have 
become many a court beauty. 

"By the rood !" said the stranger, in nowise annoyed, 
but apparently rather amused, " fair damsel, you are as 
fiery as you are handsome. Know that there is many a 
noble lady at Her Majesty's Court who would not reject 
80 absolutely the homage of even my humble self." 

Then, still smiling playfully, he bowed low, with mock 
humility, and handed Julia the ring. 

" Here it is, young lady — take it, and repair it as best 
you can ; and as for the cost, as you repudiate my offer 
in part payment, you shall yourself name the price. I will 
call for it to-morrow afternoon, if you will please get it 

With these words he slightly raised his plumed hat» 
and left the shop. Julia remained gazing at the ring he 
had placed in her hand ; nevertheless she bestowed a 
glance on the dashing stranger as he passed before the 

" I wonder who he can be , a stranger here 1 Doubt- 
less, by his bold manner and distinguished appearance, 
one of those gay young courtiers whom I have read of. 
I wonder are they all as saucy, as gallant, and as well- 
favoured V 

Then she again turned her attention to the ring. It 
was of solid gold, and of elaborate workmanship ; it was 
set with four rubies, and an emerald in the centre. On 
examining the inside, she perceived that there was there 
an inscription in very small characters. The nature of 
these characters she could not discover, as they were so 
exceedingly minute. But there were two larger letters, 
engraved in a different style. These were plain enough — 
"E. K^" surmounted by a crown. 


"E. R," thought Julia, in astonishment; "and sur- 
mounted by a crown ! Why, that means Elizabeth 
Regina ! Surely, then, this ring cannot be the Queen's f 
Perhaps it "was stolen from her ; and yet that gentleman, 
with all his impudent manner, seemed hardly like a thief. 
No matter — it is nought to me ; I have hut to repair it." 

Then Julia set to work at her task, and in an hour's 
time had nearly completed it, when she suddenly re- 
membered her father. 

An expression of deep uneasiness came across her beau- 
tiful face. 

"My father 1" she muttered to herself; "I must go 
seek him. He has been gone for these four hours, and he 
has all the other gentleman's fifty sovereigns, to buy gold 
for his chain. Oh, heavens ! if he were to give way to 
that terrible craving for drink, and lose, or perhaps spend 

And with gloomy and terrible visions of misery and 
prison floating before her eyes, Julia Ransom hastened 
to her chamber to array herself, to go forth in search of her 

In five minutes she was ready, and sallied out on her 
errand. It was now long past sundown, and the last faint 
lingering of twilight had disappeared. Julia hurried 
along toward a tavern on the East Cliff, where alas ! she 
had often before found her father. Arrived there, she 
entered timidly, and inquired of the landlady if he had 
been there. The woman replied, somewhat surlily, that he 
had ; but that she supposed he had come into a fortune, 
for that he had drunk only one bottle of gin, the quality of 
which he found fault with, and had then left, with some 
half-drunken sailors who had spent all their money, to gt 
to the " King Hal" favosa in the town. 


In reply to Julia's questioning, the woman stated that 
he had paid for the gin with a gold piece, of which he 
seemed to have a pocketful ; and that he left to play 
a match at quoits with one of the sailors. 

" And I'll warrant me he'll lose all his money ere 
they've done with him ; for they're a bad lot, and I don't 
care if I never see them in my house again." 

Great was the young girl's dismay at the news. Her 
father, then, had broken into the money entrusted to him, 
and was gone off, perhaps to gamble with the remainder. 
In great tribulation she hurriedly left, and bent her steps 
in the direction of the " King Hal." 

This tavern or hostelry boasted of the best accommoda- 
tion of any in the town. Here all strangers put up, and 
here, also, the officers of the garrison at Dover and Walmer 
sometimes visited. For Eamsgate, even in those days, was 
well frequented at times, on account of its convenient 
harbour, and beautiful cliffs and beach 

The "King Hal" was a large house, with good stabling 
accommodation, and with a bowling-green and quoit- 
ground at the back. 

Arrived at the tavern, Julia entered timidly, and in- 
quired for her father. 

But this was not his usual tavern, and they either did 
not know the old jeweller by sight, or perhaps — which is 
quite as likely — they guessed the daughter's errand, and, 
knowing that he had plenty of money, did not wish to 
lose him till he had transferred more of it from his pocket 
to the till. Julia, however, had heard that her father had 
come hither with the intention of playing a match at 
quoits. Accordingly, she asked and received a somewhat 
ungracious permission to go round into the quoit-ground 
to see. 


In order to do so, she was obliged to pass again out of 
the house to the entrance to the ground which was a few 
yards on one side. 

Having made her way in, she looked timidly and 
anxiously for her father. 

The ground consisted of a large green, surrounded by 
little arbours, each containing a bench and a seat. 

On the green were the players and their friends and 
backers, while all around in the little arbours sat groups of 
men and women drinking, shouting, and singing. 

It was evident that the liquor was flowing pretty freely, 
for at each table there was either a great tankard of ale or 
a bottle of spirits. 

It had long been dark, but the players had obviated 
this . by suspending lanterns near the place where the 
quoits were to be thrown. Altogether it was a strange 
scene, and one in which a young and beautiful girl might 
well shrink and shudder. 

Julia searched in vain among the players for her father. 
There remained but the small arbours around the green. 
Julia noticed that there were present a great many men in 
the uniform of the Queen's arquebusiers, some of whom 
were at Dover and "Walmer. There was also a sprinkling 
of sailors from merchant-ships and the war frigate then at 
Ramsgate. The rest of the company was composed of 
inhabitants or strangers. 

Liquor seemed to flow in profusion. More lanterns were 
brought, and the place assumed the aspect of a fete. Soon 
A blind musician struck up a tune, and a country dance 
was started on a part of the green unoccupied by the 
players. Songs, music, revelry, and noise became the 
order of the evening. 

Julia noticed with surprise the constant supplies of 


fresh liquor brought in, for which no one seemed to pay. 
At last, in her wanderings, she discovered a neighbour, 
and asked him if he had seen her father. 

" Yes, Miss Julia, he was here half an hour ago, and 
lost a game at quoits with a soldier. I don't know where 
he is now, but he'll be back ere long, doubtless, for he has 
made a match to play the serjeant of the Queen's arque- 
busiers for a pound a side, and I fear me much he will 
lose his money, Miss Julia. It's a sad thing for a neigh- 
bour to say to a daughter of her father, but John Kansom 
is too drunk to play a child. A wilful man will have his 
way ; I tried what I could to dissuade him." 

"Alas!" said Julia, almost weeping, "and he has so 
much money with him too. Oh, I wish I could but find 

" I saw him last with one of the arquebusiers ; he nad 
his arm round his neck, and staggered off, singing." 

Julia coloured with shame ; and, glad to say something, 
asked — 

" What are the Queen's arquebusiers doing here?" 

" Oh, they are not all here; it is only a guard of honour 
who accompany the Lord "Warden of the Cinque Ports." 

" The Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports ! This, then, 
is the reason for this unwonted scene of revelry and 
drunkenness. I beg you, good neighbour, if you see my 
father, bring him to me — 'twill be, indeed, a kind and 
neighbourly action." 

" I will, Miss Julia : meanwhile you remain here, and 
do not venture among those roysterers." 

Scarcely was Julia alone than she was accosted by 
a stranger. 

" How now, my pretty blue-bell 1 What ! all alone ? 
Couldn't get a sweetheart, and come to look for one, I'll 


be bound. Eh, my fair damsel? Come, let us trip a 
dance. I've had my share of sack to-night, but i' faith 
I'm not drunk yet." 

Julia recoiled in terror from the speaker, for she per- 
ceived at once that he was drunk. 

He was in the uniform of the arquebusiers, and by the 
gold lace and sword he wore she surmised he was an officer 
of some grade. He was a young man, not ill-looking, but 
with a dogged, brutal expression, which spoiled otherwise 
good features. 

"Come, my pretty cuckoo," he said, endeavouring to 
place his arm round her waist. 

But Julia darted away. 

He followed her. 

" What ! so coy — come, come ! I'm none of your 
men-at-arms — no common soldier ! I'm a Lieutenant of 
the Queen's arquebusiers — shall be Captain soon. Eh ! 
what do you think of that, my pretty bird] Come, 
now, be reasonable. You won't get a Lieutenant every 
day." ' 

Then the Lieutenant made another attempt, but failed 
to reach Julia, who again eluded his grasp. 

" Curse it !" muttered the gallant Lieutenant, " this won't 
do — I can't be tricked by a hussy like that. Here, you 
fellows," he cried to two of the soldiers who were strolling 
about, " come here, with me." 

The men obeyed. 

Both, like their officer, were half drunk 

"I want to catch that saucy jade you see over there; 
she's playing at hide-and-seek with me. But by St. George 
I'll have a kiss, or I'm not an officer in her Majesty's 

Then, followed by the two soldiers, who seemed to enjoy 


the frolic, the Lieutenant made for the young girl, whom 
he espied at some distance off. 

As soon as she perceived him she endeavoured to escape ; 
but she was now almost in a corner, and her tormentors 
were three instead of one. On they came, the Lieutenant 
extending his arms to prevent her escape, the two soldiers 
also intercepting her each time she attempted to iart 

At last, when almost in a corner, poor Julia, with tears 
of anger and shame streaming down her beautiful face, ran 
rapidly past one of the soldiers, eluding the hand he ex- 
tended to grasp her, and hurried at all speed towards the 
gate by which she had entered. 

Had this been clear she would have passed out and 
escaped ; but unfortunately for her, several soldiers were 
coming in. 

These, seeing the young girl pursued by their Lieutenant 
and two of their comrades, closed the way for her escape. 

" Pray let me pass !" she cried wildly, panting with ter- 
ror and exertion. " Indeed, I have done no wrong." 

" Not so fast, my pretty maid ; girls are scarce, and it is 

quite right that brave soldiers should have the first choice." 

At this moment, and while Julia was struggling wildly 

to pass through the gate, the Lieutenant and the two 

other soldiers came up. 

" Ha ! ha ! my pretty bird, caged at last, eh 1" cried the 
former, exultingly ; " now for the reward of valour. ' Faint 
heart never won fair lady' — here goes. " 

So saying, and despite the poor girl's struggles, he caught 
her in his arms, and strove to kiss her lips. 

" Unhand me, sir !" she panted, struggling desperately ; 
" this is cowardly and unmanly." 

Then she screamed with what little breath she had left. 


Between her struggles to free herself, and the Lieutenant's 
to gain his point, her hood was torn off, and also part of 
the dress covering her neck and bosom. 

" Help ! help !" she cried, burning with rage and shame 
at her exposed state. "Is there not a gentleman or a 
man present V 

Then she screamed with all her force. 



It was not a very loud scream, but it brought her a 
deliverer. A figure dashed rapidly through the gate, and, 
after gazing for a moment at the unequal struggle going 
on — a strong man against a weak girl — he drew his sword, 
and brought it down crash on the bare head of the Lieu- 
tenant, whose cap had fallen off in the struggle. 

Fortunately for the latter, the new-comer only used the 
Hat of his weapon, or it would have fared ill with the 
officer of the Queen's arquebusiers. 

Instantly on feeling the blow (which, by the way, was 
no light one), the Lieutenant loosened his hold on his 
victim, and half-drawing his sword, turned furiously to 
discover his assailant. Instantly the other struck him a 
crushing blow with the hilt of his sword in the face. 

The Lieutenant staggered back, the blood gushing from 
his mouth and nose, 

He shouted forth a furious oath, and recovering him- 
self, drew his sword, and rushed towards Julia's champion. 

" How now, sir ! what means this 1 " said the latter, in 
as authoritative voice. 


But the Lieutenant, blind with fury, rushed forward to 
attack him. 

The stranger drew his sword, but ere the Lieutenant 
could reach him, several of the soldiers ran in between. 

"The Lord Warden !" shouted one. 

" My Lord of Essex ! " cried another. 

*' The gallant Earl Essex ! " cried a third 

" Eelease him ! " said the Earl, sternly, for it was he ; 
"I will deal with him." 

The soldiers stood on one side. 

" Put up your sword, sirrah ! " 

The Lieutenant, still half-mad with wine and rago, 
glared on him, and did not obey. 

" Sergeant of the guard ! " shouted the EarL 

The Sergeant approached, and doffed his cap, defe* 

" Arrest that man ! take his sword away, and keep strict 
guard over him ! " 

The Sergeant, ordering some soldiers to assist him, 
proceeded to arrest the Lieutenant. In a few seconds the 
latter was overpowered, and his sword taken from him. 

"I hold you responsible for his safe keeping," said the 
Earl, turning away ; " and provide a haltei - as soon as pos- 
sible, for I shall hang him at sunrise ! " 

A shudder went through the crowd at thia terrible threat 
— a threat which those who best knew the Earl felt sure 
he would keep. 

Lord Essex seldom either threatened or promised , but 
when he did either, he kept his word. 

The Sergeant and soldiers proceed to drag their prisoner 
away, in obedience to an impatient gesture from the EarL 
Julia, still palpitating from the terror caused by the man'H 
violence, hastens to rearrange her dress. 



x,ord Essex, having given the orders as to fhe disposal 
of the drunken Lieutenant, now turns his attention to the 
young girl whom he had so opportunely protected. By 
the dim light of the lanterns he did not at first recognize 
Julia ; hut some men bearing links hastened up, and by 
their bright glare he perceived that the fair girl before 
him was no other than the jeweller's daughter. 

"My fair damsel," said the Queen's favourite, kindly, 
and gallantly taking her hand, "I fear yon ruffian has 
sadly discomposed you, both in mind and also in person, 
for I perceive that your dress is torn. I will order one of 
my gentlemen to conduct you to my private rooms ; then, 
with the aid of the hostess, pins, needles, and bodkins, you 
can arrange your ruffled plumage. As I live, too, you are 
pale as death, and tremble ! Doubtless, a cup of hot wine 
will not be amiss. Meanwhile, I have some orders to give 
for the morrow, which I will now attend to. Then, when 
you have somewhat recovered fo m your fright, I will 
wait on you, and learn from your fair lips how this 
ruffianly attack on yourself commenced." 

Julia was only too glad to accept the Earl's offer ; for, 
although by no means weak-minded, the outrage and insult 
to which she had been subjected brought her to the verge 
of a faint. 

Accordingly, following one of the Earl's household, who 
deferentially offered to conduct her, she passed into the 
house, and was shown into the principal room of the 
hostelry, which had been appropriated for the distinguished 

"With the assistance of a serving-maid, Julia soon re- 
arranged her dress, and was enabled to collect her scat- 
tered faculties by the time Lord Essex appeared. 

"And now, young lady," said the latter, after first 


inquiring as to whether she had received any injury, " tell 
me how this happened 1 " 

"I was searching for my father, sir, when the tipsy 
officer accosted me. He was unable to catch me alone, so 
he called for the assistance of two others." 

" Your father ! — is he, then, here 1 One would have 
thought he would, ere this, have appeared, if in the place, 
for all must have heard the noise." 

" Alas, sir ! I fear that my father has taken too much 
wine. It was for that reason that I came to search for 
him, as he has a sum of money with him entrusted by a 

At this moment the Sergeant entered, and informing 
the Earl that his prisoner was in safe custody, asked for 
instructions as to the command of the soldiers ; for the 
disgraced Lieutenant was the only officer bearing a com- 

The Earl thought for a moment, and then replied — 

"You, Sergeant, will provisionally take the command 
of the soldiers. As to the Lieutenant, you have my 

The Sergeant touched his neck significantly. 

The Earl nodded his head in assent, and the man was 
leaving the room, when Julia, who had noticed the dumb- 
show, cried — 

"Oh, my lord, surely you are not going to have the 
man executed ! He was rude and ruffianly, but his crime 
was not worthy of so terrible a punishment. Spare him, 
my lord ; let him not meet his death for me, I can freely 
forgive him." 

Lord Essex looked black. 

" You ask me to pardon him, and say that his crime la 
not worthy of death ; do you not know, young lady, that* 


putting on one side the outrage and insult to yourself, his 
life is forfeited for another offence ? " 

" For another offence 1 " 

" Yes ; for did he not draw his sword on me, and 
attempt to attack me ! How say you, Sergeant 1 By tha 
usages of war is not his life forfeit 1 " 

"Assuredly, my lord." 

" You hear what the Sergeant says, fair damsel 1 " 

"Ah, sir," said Julia, with clasped hands, "but you 
will forgive him ! You are great and noble, and will not 
doom to death a poor wretch for a fault committed under 
the influence of drink. Spare him, my lord, and let me 
not have his blood on my head ; for assuredly I shall ever 
blame myself if he is executed." 

Julia looked so beseechingly, and withal so bewitching, 
as she imploringly said these words, that the Earl smiled, 
and said — 

" And has the drunken Lieutenant found a champion in 
her whom he intended for his prey 1 Good — I will take 
your request into consideration ; for although the man 
has, by the laws of the land and of war, forfeited his life, 
I like not to refuse a request so prettily worded by such 
pretty lips." 

" Ah, sir, then you will spare him ! " cried Julia, joy- 

"Gently, my pretty bird— not so fast. In the first 
place, I only said I would take your request into con- 
sideration, and then only on one condition." 

"A condition 1 Oh, name it, sir. Anything that.ia 
in my power I will gladly do, rather than that this man 
should die." 

"Good," said the Earl, smiling mischievously. "Ser- 
geant, retire into the corridor, and wait till I summon 




The man obeyed, and Lord Essex, taking Julia's hand, 
Baid, bending down his head till the plume in his hat 
touched her cheek — 

"And now for the condition." 

"Name it, sir." 

Lord Essex fixed his brilliant dark eyes on the fair face 
before him, and said, in a low voice — 

" A kiss from your sweet lips, my charming Julia." 

"My lord," said Julia, crimsoning, "but now you 
rescued me from this Lieutenant, for wishing to obtain 
the same. Surely, my lord, you would not act as he 

" My fair damsel, there is a great difference ; he en- 
deavoured to snatch by force that which I only humbly 
solicit. Surely, I have earned some reward." 

Julia cast down her eyes, and strove to withdraw her 
hand, not, however, rudely, or in a manner which bespoke 
her greatly displeased. 

Woman is woman all the world over. Julia was young, 
and had hitherto never heard the soft speeches and flat- 
teries of courtiers. Erancis Drake's bold, frank manner of 
love making was very different from the soft, insinuating 
manner of the Lord Warden. 

" Ah, my lord ! " she murmured, " do not ask me. I 
Bhould be sorry for the man to be hung for my sake ; but, 
my lord, you ask what I cannot grant. You are a great 
noble, and I but a poor girl " 

" Nevertheless, the handsomest in all Kent : that will 
I boldly maintain 1 " 


So saying, the Earl placed his aim suddenly round hei 
waist — not by any means roughly, but with an ease and 
grace peculiar to himself. 

" Come, fair lady — the price of the man's forfeit life ! — 
will you not give it 1 " 

And again he bent down his plumed head to hers. 

As we have said, Julia was but a woman — the Earl was 
young, handsome, and his manner had nothing offensive, 
but, with all its warmth, was still respectful. Then she 
thought of the doomed Lieutenant, and then, too, looking 
up for a moment, she met the dark, flashing eyes of the 
Earl fixed on her. 

" Come," whispered the latter, " the price ! " 

Julia murmured something in deprecation, but, at the 
same time, turned her face upwards and towards him, in a 
manner which said unmistakeably, "Take it, if you 

At any rate, Lord Essex so read it, for he pressed hia 
lips to hers, and imprinted a warm kiss thereon. 

Then Julia, freeing herself, and covered with blushes, 
said — 

"Now, my lord, keep your word." 

"Without there, Serjeant of the guard ! " 

The Sergeant entered, and stood before him. 

"Bring up your prisoner here, under guard." 

As the Sergeant left to cany this order into execution, 
Lord Essex turned to Julia, who still remained standing 
in confusion at some little distance. 

"Before pardoning the fellow, I must make him go 
down on his knees before you and beg for your forgive- 

The prisoner was now brought into the room by the 
Sergeant and a file of soldiers. 


His hands were bound, and his sword had been taken 

Although now somewhat sobered, he still wore a dogged, 
vindictive look. 

Lord Essex motioned for him to be brought before him. 

"Well, sirrah, what have "you to say in palliation of 
your daring mutiny 1 " 

No answer. 

" By the rood, rascal, if you dare to treat me thus con- 
temptuously, I'll have you hanged to yon tree outside 
the window in five minutes. Answer me, sir ! Your 
name ? " 

"John Desmond, a lieutenant in the Queen's Arque- 

" And what have you to say to the outrage you attempted 
on tins young lady, and daring to draw your sword on 
myself ?" 

" As for what you are pleased to term the outrage, my 
Lord Essex, I merely tried to snatch a kiss. If that be 
an outrage worthy of death, you, my lord, should have 
died long ago, if report doth not lie. As to my daring to 
draw a sword on you, it was dark, and I recognized you 
not. I knew that somewhat struck me, and turned to 
revenge myself without inquiring who or what it was — 
and so should I do again." 

" Humph ! " said the Earl, " your words are insolent , 
we will see if we cannot humble you." 

Then, turning to the Sergeant, Lord Essex said, — 

" Take a strong and good hempen rope, and throw tha 
end over that pear-tree by the window. Let there be a 
noose in one end, and have half a dozen soldiers at the 
other. We will see if this fellow f,an meet death as inso- 
lently as be beards me." 


The Sergeant proceeded to carry this order into execu- 
tion ; meanwhile the Earl hummed a tune carelessly 
tapping his foot with his sword scahbard. 

"Oh, sir ! " cried Julia, "what are you goin fe *o do?" 

" "What am I going to do, my pretty one 1 "Why, I am 
about to give an order. Then those soldiers you see there 
will drag this gentleman forth, and will place the noose of 
the rope around his neck — then other soldiers will haul 
on the end, and you will have the pleasure of seeing 
his pretty body swinging in the air to the bough of that 
pear-tree !'' 

" Oh ! giwit heavens ! " cried Julia, " spare him ! Did 
you not promise me 1 " and she looked imploringly and 
reproachfully in his face. 

" The fellow's insolence deserves no mercy. Meanwhile, 
as I have received a payment from you, I am quite willing 
to return it in kind." 

" Oh, sir, how can you jest on such a subject 1 " 

At this moment the Sergeant re-entered, and reported 
all ready. 

John Desmond, the lieutenant, turned ghastly pale ; he 
had not before realized the terrible danger of his position. 
He knew but little of the Lord Warden, and did not be- 
lieve before that he meant to carry his threat into execution. 
Now, however, the stern, grave faces of the soldiers wait- 
ing to conduct him to his death, and the dreadful pre- 
parations, convinced him of the imminence of his danger. 

His knees knocked under him, and the perspiration 
streamed down his livid face. 

The Earl fixed his eye sternly on him. 

" Now, sirrah ! art inclined to repeat thy insolence, and 
to tell me again that thou didst no more than I do oi 
rumour belied me ? " 


"My lore!!" gasped the poor wretch, in an agony of 
terror ; for, at a signal, the soldiers approached, and pre- 
pared to drag him forth to his death, " My lord, spare 
me ! I knew not what I said, I was drunk with wine ; 
spare my life, and I will offend no more ! " 

At a sign from the Earl, the soldiers freed him. 

" Approach this lady ! " said Lord Essex, indicating 

"Now go down on your knees and humbly ask for her 
pardon ! " 

The Lieutenant at once fell on his knees, and did as he 
was bid. 

" Now ask pardon of me in the same manner, and beg 
your miserable life as a boon from my clemency ! " 

This done, the Earl said to the Sergeant — 

" Eelease him ! " Then turning to the Lieutenant — 

" You have to thank this lady, whom you insulted, for 
your life ; had she not have interceded, you should have 
hung in the morning. As it is, I remove you from your 
command. You will consider yourself under arrest, and 
will await my pleasure Beware how you again cross my 
path ! " 

John Desmond hurried from the room. 

As he descended the stairs, he muttered, in a voice of 
deep hatred — 

" And beware, Lord Earl, how you cross mine ! I am 
not the man to forget an injury ! The day will yet come 
when you and your leman there shall curse the day when 
you brought John Desmond to his knees to beg for his 

Had the Earl heard these words, it is certain that the 
rope and pear-tree would have been put in requisition. 

As the disgraced Lieutenant hurried from the house, he 


produced from the pocket of his doublet some small, glib 
tsering object, which he carefully regarded. 

"Yes, yes!" he muttered, "'tis all right; this little 
bauble will yet work me my revenge ! " 

And still muttering to himself, he walked out into the 
darkness, glad to hide his disgraced head from the soldiers 
whom he had commanded. 

Julia now requested permission to return home, and 
took her leave of the Earl, he promising to call on the 
morrow at her father's shop respecting the gold and emerald 

This, in her search for her father, Julia had carried with 
her. Judge, then, of her horror and dismay when, on 
arriving home, she discovered that she had lost it. 
She had placed it in her bosom for safety ; and in 
the struggle, when her dress was torn, she had lost 

At the first dawn of day she arose, and hastened to the 
" King Hal " to search for it. Alas ! all in vain. It was 
nowhere to be found, and she returned home with the 
tears coursing down her fair cheeks. 

To add to her wretchedness, she found that her father 
had spent, lost, or gambled more than half of the money 
entrusted to him by Sir Edward Dudley. 

" What should she, what could she say, when the Eatf 
called for his ring, and the Baronet for his gold chain 1 " 

If, however, the grief and terror of Julia at her loss 
was great, it could not exceed the dismay of Lord Essex 
when, on calling, she informed him, weeping, that it was 

He said but little, not wishing to increase her sorrow 
it an incident for which he felt she was not blameable. 
He was obliged to return to London on the next day, he 


said, and begged her to use every endeavour to recover tho 
lost gem. He authorized her to offer heavy rewards to any 
who should restore it, and proposed to leave the money 
for the purpose. 

But Julia shudderingly refused to receive the gold he 
proffered j and, when pressed for a reason, she confessed 
that she feared her father might obtain possession of it. 
She was thus obliged to relate how he had spent a part 
of the money entrusted by Sir Edward Dudley for his 

This was a painful avowal, and one wrung from her only 
after much pressing and many tears. 

Visions of prison, and all sorts of terrible penalties for 
her father's dishonesty, arose before her. 

Pitying her sorrow, admiring her great beauty, and per- 
haps with a tenderer feeling, Lord Essex insisted on her 
accepting, if only as a loan, a sufficient sum to make up 
the amount Sir Edward had entrusted. 

Half-joyfully, half-reluctantly, Julia was prevailed upon 
to do so ; nor is it wonderful that she should regard her 
new-found friend and protector as the best and most noble 
oi mankind. 

Kindness, sympathy, and generosity have always a great 
effect on the female mind ; and when Lord Essex bade her 
adieu, she followed his retreating form with her eyes till 
lost in the distance. 

He had promised to return in the course of a month, 
and Julia looked forward with eager anxiety to the time, 
hoping that she would be enabled to discover and return 
him the ring. At least, she persuaded herself that that 
was the reason why, as day by day passed on, she looked 
and longed for the time, forgetting that hitherto she had 
not succeeded in finding the lost gem. 


But such is woman. If, with regard to their feeling^ 
they sometimes deceive others, they nearly always deceive 



In less than a month from the date of our last chapter, all 
the inhabitants of Eamsgate are assembled on the pier to 
witness the departure of a vessel on a long voyage. All 
eyes are turned towards her as she sails along up the 
harbour on her course to the open sea. She is a brig of 
about 150 tons, or thereabouts; her sails and rigging are 
all in order ; her appointments complete in every respect ; 
while the brass muzzles of four carronades protruding from 
each side proclaim that her crew are determined she shall 
not fall an unresisting prey to the first pirate she may 
meet. In addition to the eight carronades, there is also a 
long gun amidships. This is now covered over by the 
long-boat, its black muzzle being alone visible ; and 
around tbe mainmast are ranged firelocks, cutlasses, and 

Now, in her passage up the harbour she comes quite 
close to the pier-head, where most of the inhabitants are 
assembled to witness the novel sight of an armed ship 
sailing with a cargo for the Spanish Main. On her high 
poop are assembled a group of men ; one of these is lean- 
ing over the bulwarks, gazing out on the distant horizon. 
It is no other than our friend, Captain Francis Drake. 
Near him are his two brothers, Will and Michael, and on 
his left hand Sir Edward Dudley. The form of a young 


girl may also be perceived : it is that of Amy Drake, who 
begged so hard and wept so bitterly at the thought of 
being separated from her brother Francis, that at last she 
was allowed to make one of the adventurous voyagers. 
Her young brother Harry, although only fifteen, also ac- 
companies them ; thus leaving Mrs. Drake only her two 
daughters, Louisa and Mary. 

The little vessel bounds along before the favouring 
breeze, and is now abreast of the pier-head. A cheer 
bursts forth from the assembled crowd, as the brig with 
her adventurous crew pass close to the pier-head. Ker- 
chiefs are waved and hands are kissed, while many a 
prayer goes up to Heaven from some one or another of 
the spectators, for the safety of a brother, father, husband 
or lover on board the Enterprise — for such is the name of 
the brig. 

And now she is out of the harbour, and fairly at sea. 
The white sails belly forth as she catches the freshening 
breeze ; the cheery songs of the sailors, as the anchors 
are secured and every stitch of canvas set to the gale, fade 
away by degrees, as, careering over to the wind, the 
Enterprise dashes through the foaming waves, leaving 
the white cliffs of old England behind her. 

The lately crowded pier is all but deserted. The Enter- 
prise has been gone some two hours, and yet two female 
figures still remain gazing sadly out on the horizon. A 
small white speck may still be seen. On this the eyes oi 
the two women are rivetted. 

" May Heaven guard and protect them on their perilous 
enterprise ! " said the one, the elder ; and with clasped 
hands and tearful eyes she still gazed on the fading vessel 
This was Mistress Drake. 

" May Heaven bletj <»nd protect him, and grant that t 


may love me ever ! " murmured the younger female, with 
a sigh. 

It was Julia Eansom. 

And now the white speck is gone from their gaze. 

The Enterprise was a brig of some 150 or 200 tons, 
nearly new, and well equipped in every respect. 

The vessel and cargo had been purchased by Francis 
Drake with the two thousand pounds which Sir Edward 
had so liberally advanced for the purpose. Indeed, the 
young captain had so imbued his patron with his own en- 
thusiasm, that he resolved himself to accompany the 
expedition, and share its dangers and glories, its profit and 

The brig was unusually well-manned, and was well pro- 
vided with arms and ammunition. 

This, as well as the large complement of men for so 
small a vessel, was due to Sir Edward Dudley, who antici- 
pated more of difficulty and danger than did Francis 

The crew consisted of thirty-five men and boys. Then 
there were the brothers Drake — Francis, "Will, Michael, 
and Harry — and Sir Edward and his servant Gideon, 
making in all forty-one. 

Amy Drake was the only female on board ; and it was 
only after great solicitation and entreaty that the brothers 
would consent to her accompanying them ; for they said 
with truth, that they might have to encounter dangers, 
and go through scenes, for which a young girl was quite 

However, after a long resistance, they gave in, and Amy 
was allowed to come. This result was due in a measure 
to Sir Edward Dudley, whom Amy had by some means or 
another brought over to her side. 


And so it happened that the gentle girl formed one on 
board the Enterprise, which is now merrily dashing through 
the foaming waters of the Atlantic. 

In the year 1565 — that is to say, exactly sixty-five years 
after the date when the first European planted his foot in 
the New World — South America was. almost without ex- 
ception, under Spanish sway. 

So far, this was right ; for to Spain belonged the honoui 
of having first sent her navigators and discoverers into 
those distant latitudes. There was Pedro Alvares Cabrado, 
who, in the year 1500, discovered Brazil and the mouth of 
the mighty Amazon river ; Perez de la Eua, who in 1515 
discovered Peru ; Juan de Solis, who explored Bio de 
Janeiro and Eio de la Plata in the years 1515 to 1518. 
Then there was Ferdinand Magellan (not a Spaniard, cer- 
tainly, but a Portuguese in the Spanish service), who in 
1510 discovered Patagonia ; and, lastly, Diego de Almagro, 
who sixteen years later discovered Chili 

Let us now see how Spain, mistress of the New World, 
used her conquest. 

The historian Eobertson, in our opinion, sets that mat- 
ter at rest in the following lines : — 

" The first result of the Spanish conquest and coloni- 
sation of South America was an astonishing diminution 
among the original inhabitants." 

A diminution of the inhabitants ! Behold a civilized 
nation, which says in effect to another not enjoying the 
same blessing — " Submit to us, and acknowledge us your 
conquerors." And to obtain that submission which they 
demand, the Spaniards, instead of having recourse to 
pacific and generous measures, commence to pillage, ravish, 
and slay. 

In Mexico, in Peru, where they encountered vesigtance. 


half the inhabitants perished by the sword. It was the 
same in the neighbourhood of Carthagena, of Panama, oi 
Venezuela, and of Buenos Ayres, as also in New 

Bobertson, the historian, says — " As the Indians of that 
country were less savage and untutored than any of the 
other South Americans, they defended themselves with 
great resolution and skill. .But tne oravery and deter- 
mination of the Spanish commanders, Benalceyar and 
^uesada, overcame all obstacles and all dangers, and added 
that conquest to the others Spain had achieved in South 

Overcame all obstacles and all dangers ! We should 
like to know what serious obstacles or dangers soldiers 
cased in armour, and armed with " thunderers " (for so 
the Indians named the arquebuses and cannon) could find 
in meeting and destroying half-naked unfortunates, armed 
only with bows, arrows, and clubs t 

But we will dwell no more on the subject. 

The excuse of the Spaniards — if there could be any — 
for tbe manner of using their conquest was this : — They 
were greedy for gold. The thirst for gold, more furious a 
thousand times than that for wine, made their men reck- 
less and cruel. Behold the results — as the Spaniards, in 
their lust for gold, did not hesitate to deluge the soil with 
blood, so the future, the avenger of the oppressed, had in 
store a terrible chastisement for the descendants of the 
ruthless conquerors. Of what rank, of what importance 
now is Spain in South America ? 

The Spaniards sowed, but others have reaped. 

What we wish to be understood in this hasty sketch of 
the Spanish policy in South America is, that at the time 
when Francis Drake made his first voyage, they tyrannized 


more than ever over the unfortunate inhabitants, and were. 
as a consequence, more than ever hated and feared. 

The brig sailed on the 3rd of June from Eamsgate, and 
arrived on the fifteenth at the island of Madeira. This 
first part of the voyage was performed under the most 
favourable circumstances. Fair weather, smooth seas, and 
moderate, favouring gales, made the voyage to Madeira 
almost a pleasure trip. 

The crew were composed of young, strong men, and 
they were good seamen. The brig herself turned out to 
be all her young captain expected, both in seaworthiness 
and sailing qualities ; her masts were well-proportioned» 
her sails well-cut and taut ; when we add to this that she 
was just sufficiently ballasted with cargo, and that the 
wind blew a gentle breeze from the east-south-east during 
the whole time, it may easily be imagined that the passage 
was fair and pleasant enough. 

Francis Drake had good reason to be satisfied with this 
favourable commencement of their voyage. The days 
passed with him like hours, the hours like minutes. The 
first feeling of sorrow at parting with his mother and 
Bisters had worn off, and, with his brothers, Amy, and his 
friend and patron Sir Edward, he was happy as the day is 

Sir Edward Dudley himself did not seem the same man 
as he who had resided for nearly a month with the Drake 
family at Eamsgate. There one might often see him sad, 
gloomy, and depressed ; now, since the ship had left 
behind her the shores of England, he was all life and 

In putting into Madeira, Francis Drake had more than 
one object in view. It was not only to procure fresh 
provisions and water, but also to give bis guest Sir Edward, 


and his sister, some relaxation from the monotony of the 

On anchoring in the harbour of Madeira, Francis, his 
brothers William and Henry, Amy, and Sir Edward, went 
on shore in the boat ; and whilst the three first went off 
towards the town to purchase the necessary provisions, Sir 
Edward and Amy strolled off into the interior of the 
beautiful island. 



Some people might be surprised at a brother leaving a 
sister — young, amiable, and beautiful — alone with a 
stranger ; but, in the first place, they did not consider Sir 
Edward in the light of a stranger ; and in the second, he 
had given them so many and such great proofs of his 
genuine regard, that they put perfect faith in his honour. 
It is true that, when he found himself for the first time 
alone with the charming little Amy, he experienced a 
feeling which he could scarcely account for. It is strange 
how altered circumstances change our manner of seeing 
thinking, and acting. At Ramsgate Sir Edward took no 
notice of Amy, beyond occasionally addressing to her, as 
to her sisters, a few words of commonplace politeness; but 
now, especially during the last few days, the manner of the 
young girl towards him was kind, friendly, almost affec- 
tionate. He endeavoured to account for it on the ground 
of her gratitude ; for was it not to his influence that she 
-yved the permission to accompany her favourite brother 
Francis % What, then, more natural than that an affec- 


tionate sister should feel grateful, and show her gratitude 
to the man who had prevented a separation she dreaded 1 
Nevertheless, regarding the young girl for the first time 
attentively, he felt troubled. For the first time he noticed 
that she was very beautiful ; for the first time he saw in 
all their beauty the soft pure contour of her features, the 
grace and elegance of her figure, and the charm of her 
naive, innocent manner. 

Amy had followed with her eyes the retreating figures 
of her brothers as they walked on to the town, till they 
were lost to her sight. Suddenly she turned, and address- 
ing her companion, said, blushing — 

" A thousand pardons, sir ; I really forgot you were 
waiting for me. But are you quite sure that Francis and 
my brothers are quite safe — that they are in no danger in 
this strange country 1" 

" And what do you imagine is going to happen to them 
Amy 1 ? This island belongs to Portugal, and Portugal is 
not at war with England. The best proof that there is no 
danger to be apprehended is the fact that your brother 
Francis was the first to propose that you should accompany 
us on shore." 

"You are right, sir; I am very silly," said Amy, 
smiling. "You won't tell Francis of my folly, will you 1 
He will laugh at me. Come, let us make the best of our 
time. How beautiful the country looks, does it not, sir 1 
Oh, I am certain Francis would be angry if you told him I 
was afraid ; for the other day he scolded me because I said it 
would be very dangerous to trade with those savage Indians, 
who, people say, are cannibals, and eat Europeans." 

"In the meantime," said Sir Eaward, smiling, "they 
have not yet succeeded in eating the Spaniards ; for they 
are their masters to the present day." 


" Ah, yes — you are right ; but the Spaniards have known 
them for a long time, and understand how to manage them 
better than the English." 

" You think, then, that the savages will find our coun- 
trymen more easy, more tender eating, perhaps, than the 
Spaniards 1" 

" Ah, you are laughing at me, Sir Edward ; it is too bad 
of you. "Well, never mind — I will let you laugh; but 
promise me this — if Francis ventures among these savage 
people, of whom I have read such terrible accounts at 
home — for I assure you I read a great deal about America 
before we left Eamsgate — promise me that you will not 
leave him." 

"Willingly — I will promise you to go wherever your 
brother goes." 

" Ah, thank you. And, as I cannot remain on board 
the ship by myself, I shall go with you and my brothers, 
shall I not V 

" Ah, we will talk of that another time." 

" And why not talk about it now V 

"Why, because we cannot decide without your 
brother, in the first place ; and because we do not 
know what the future may bring forth, in the 

" Ah, you are right again, sir," said Amy, with a con- 
fiding look; "you are always right. I am happy now, 
very happy ; why, then, should I torment myself about 
the future 1 Oh, how soft and warm the air is here, is it 
not, sir ? And what a beautiful perfume there is ! Look 
there before us, too, on those little trees. Why, I declare 
there are oranges !" 

And Amy opened her soft blue eyes in the utmost 


" Oranges I Yes, certainly they are orangea," said her 
companion, " and very fine ones, too." 

" Oranges !" said Amy, still half incredulous ; "and so 
near our poor old Eamsgate, where there is nothing bu 
apples and pears, rocks and shrubs. Oh, Sir Edward ! do 
get me some of those beautiful great oranges — only a 
dozen, to take on board with us." 

"Oh, certainly," was the laughing reply. "In the 
meantime, I hope the owners won't object." 

" The owners ! Surely, since they have planted these 
trees by the roadside, they intend them for the use of all 
passers by." 

" Such refinement of courtesy on the part of the inhabi- 
tants of Madeira seems to me extremely problematical, 
No matter ; I imagine that a piece of silver will appease 
their anger, should they catch us robbing their orchard." 

So saying, he conducted Amy to one of the trees loaded 
with the finest fruit, and, placing his foot on a low 
branching, commenced plucking the ripe fruit, and throwing 
them into Amy's lap. 

" Ah, thank you — thank you ! You are kind, Sir 
Edward," cried Amy, in delight. "Indeed I am so much 
obliged to you — I do like you so ; indeed I should be 
very ungrateful if I did not. Oh, these beautiful oranges ! 
How many have I ? Let me count. Four — eight— twelve 
— thirteen ; one more than I asked for. Come down, 
now, please, and we will eat the odd one ourselves. It is 
no more than we deserve, I am sure, after the trouble we 
have had in gathering them. There, that will do beauti- 
fully. Now sit down by the side of me. Now, take one ; 
not the best though — that must be for Francis." 

Seated by the side of the fair young girl, Sir Edward 
felt amused, pleased, and gratified • there was so much 


candonr, naivete, and gentleness in her. Her 'words, "1 
do like you so," which she repeated more than once, were 
said with such complete abandon and innocence, that he 
could not but smile. 

In two minutes Amy had skilfully peeled the orange, 
and divided it into two parts. She then presented one 
graciously to her companion. He shook his head. 

" What ! you won't take some?" said Amy, in surprise. 


"And why 1 ? Do you not like oranges?" 

"Yes, I like them ; but " 

"But what ?" 

" I don't like people who do not keep their words." 

" People who do not keep their words ! I do not under- 
stand you." 

" You have a bad memory. Did you not promise, the 
other day, when I persuaded your brother to allow you to 
accompany us, that if I succeeded you would look on me 
with as great affection as on him 1 " 

"Well?" said Amy, looking surprised. 

" Well, it is certain that you have not kept your word, 
since in the most trifling circumstances you show a pre- 
ference for Francis. For instance, now, you keep the finest 
orange for him." 

At these words of her companion, poor Amy turned first 
red and then white. A bright sparkle of the eye accom- 
panied the crimson flush ; a tear rolled down her cheek as 
she turned pale. 

"There, take them— take them all," she said, with 
faltering voice, holding towards him the fruit, which she 
had gathered together in a handkerchief ; " take them all, 
sir ; and if I have annoyed or pained you, pray think no 
more of it." 


Sir Edward made a gesture, refusing the young girl's 
offer, and arose to his feet. 

"What am I doing 1 ?" he thought to himself. "I am 
ahout to show this young girl, to whom hitherto I have 
scarcely been civil, that I care for her — to ask her, in fact, 
whether she feels any sentiment for me other than friend- 

And even if Amy had replied, " You have no need to 
he jealous of Francis, for I love you not only as well, but 
better than him," what would the avowal avail, when he 
had no right to accept it 1 No — certainly he had no right 
to force, or even accept such an avowal ; for it was not for 
him, under any circumstances, to charge himself with the 
love of a young girl, be she never so fair and loveable. 

" Pshaw ! what a fool, if not worse, I am," he thought. 
" Here am I about to talk to a girl whom a brother haa 
confided to me, in other language than that of a brother." 

" Come, let us return," he said, turning to Amy, who 
still remained seated. 

Then, bursting into laughter, he cried — 

" Oh, you little silly ! I declare I quite frightened you 
with my serious manner and grave voice. You look quite 
sad, Amy. I was only in fun, little one. As if I should 
be so unreasonable as to expect you to like me as well as 
Francis ! — as if a mere friend could be on an equality in 
your affections with a brother ! Come — give me my half cA. 
the oranges, and let me carry the others, for they will be 
too heavy for you. There ; now let us be getting back 
towards the harbour, or we shall be late." 

Amy smiled, and gave him her hand to assist her t| 
rise. Perhaps, however, the smile was not more sincere 
than the gay manner of Sir Edward ; perhaps, could we 
have read the heart of the gentle Amy, the light, playfuj 


tone he now affected was less pleasing to her than that in 
which he said, " I do not like people who do not keep 
their words." 

At the appointed hour Amy and her companion were at 
the rendezvous, where they met Francis and his brothers. 

" Well, little sister, asked the captain, " have you enjoyed 
your stroll into the country 1 " 

" Oh yes, indeed, so very, very much !" was the reply ; 
at the same moment Amy darted a glance from under her 
long lashes at Sir Edward, which, however, he did not, 01 
affected not to perceive. 



The next day the anchor was weighed, and the brig pro- 
ceeded on her course for the Spanish main. Everything 
went prosperously, and as the most sanguine could have 

On the 30th of July they passed Trinidad, and at about 
six in the evening of the 5th of August they cast anchor in 
the bay of Santa Marta, in the kingdom of New Granada. 
It would be impossible to paint the enthusiasm, the joy of 
all on board, at this safe termination of their long and 
perilous voyage. Sir Edward Dudley alone, of all on 
board, remained buried in a lit of gloomy abstraction. In 
vain he tried to rouse himself; a feeling — almost a pre- 
sentiment of coining evil— had taken possession of him. 
A gentle touch on the shoulder aroused him. 

"You seem sad, sir," said Amy, in her soft, silvery 
tones; "do you not, then, share our joy at having at last 


arrived at our destination 1 See how pleased my brothers 
are ; even the very sailors are almost beside themselves 
with delight. One of them — Jackson — told me just now 
tli at he would not change with any of our great queens, 
lords, or councillors ; for, great as they are they will die 
without having seen this beautiful new land, while Jackson 
in his old age will be able to tell tales to his children of 
the marvels of the New "World." 

The gay prattle of Amy by degrees dissipated Sir 
Edward's melancholy. 

" And you, young lady — are you as delighted as the 
rest at our arrival 1 " 

" Indeed, I am more pleased than any, because it is all 
through the skill of my dear brother Francis. Ah, ia he 
not a noble, brave fellow 1 " 

While Amy and Sir Edward were thus conversing, 
Francis Drake had ordered the boat to be lowered and 
brought alongside. 

" You are coming with us ? " he asked of his passenger, 

" Oh yes ! I fancy you would get on but badly without 
my aid." 

" I know, sir, that we are greatly indebted to you," re- 
plied the young Captain ; " but are we again about to 
receive fresh proofs of your good-will 1 Is it any special 
assistance you speak of?" 

" Yes, my young friend," was the reply ; " I shall this 
day be of greater use to you than you imagine." 

" Pray explain, sir." 

" Do you not know, true son of old England that you 
are, that the English language is not the only one spoken 
in the world — that there are other tongues, which you 
cannot comprehend 1 Did it never occur to you that this 


country "was inhabited solely by the natives and the 
Spaniards, neither of whom understand English 1 " 

" Ah, how stupid I am, to be sure ! " said Francis. " I 
had never thought of that. And do you, sir, then, speak 
Spanish ? " 

" A little, I speak and understand Spanish as I speak 
and understand Italian, French, and German. I have 
travelled much, and have picked up a little of most lan- 

"Ah, Sir Edward, you are indeed a friend!" said the 
young sailor, impulsively grasping the other's hand. 
" You are as wise and learned as you are brave and 

Amy said nothing, but her eyes sparkled with pleasure 
at these words of her brother to his friend. 

" The boat is alongside, Captain," cried a sailor from 
the gangway. 

" Good," replied Francis. " Michael," he said to his 
brother, " I am going on shore with Sir Edward, to ar- 
range with the authorities for permission to land, or pro- 
ceed up the river to trade with the Indians. You will 
remain on board in charge of the brig. One-half of the 
crew I will allow to land — if the Spanish authorities do 
not object — to-day, and the other half to-morrow." 

'* And what of me and Harry, brother 1 " asked Amy. 
'• When may we come on shore into this beautiful 
country ] " 

" Ah, well, all in good time, Amy ; we will not forget 

So saying, Francis and Sir Edward entered the boat, and 
were rowed towards the land. 

Apparently, Santa Marta was not a very busy place foi 


with the exception of one or two groups 01 negroes on the 
quay, and a sailor or so lounging about, there was hardly 
anyone visible. There was one man, however, who, ever 
since the arrival of the Enterprise had never once taken 
his eyes off her ; he watched every movement, like a cat 
watching a mouse. As they approached, they observed 
that he was richty dressed in the Spanish mode, and wore 
a. bat shaded by a magnificent feather. 

The instant that Francis, followed by Sir Edward, 
leaped on shore, he advanced towards them. Taking off 
his plumed hat, and bowing politely, he said — 

" Gentlemen, I perceive you are strangers. I presume 
you come to trade, and procure from the inhabitants of 
this country gold in exchange for your merchandize. If 
you have need of any guidance or assistance, I, Don Jose 
de Castanaros, in the service of his majesty the King of 
Spain, place myself at your disposal." 

Having delivered this speech, Don Jose again bowed, 
more profoundly than before, and awaited their answer. 
As for Francis Drake, he did not understand a word, and 
contented himself with bowing in return. But Sir Edward, 
having returned Don Jose's salute, replied — 

" Senor, my friend here, Captain Francis Drake, a sub- 
ject of her majesty Queen Elizabeth of England, has 
voyaged hither, as you conjecture, to trade. He has on 
board his brig yonder a varied and valuable cargo, which 
he hopes to be able to dispose of, and return with some of 
the golden ingots of the New World. 

At these words of Sir Edward, Don Jos6 again bowed 
with the greatest politeness ; but the bow was accompanied 
by a smile which neither Francis nor the other observed — 
a smile full of meaning, sinister and mocking, which, had 
either noticed, would have warned them to beware. Sir 


Edward explained to Francis, who could not understand a 
word of Don Jose's, how the latter had volunteered to be 
their guide. The young Captain was delighted. 

" Tell this honourable gentleman," he said, "that we 
Accept the offer of his assistance and guidance with the 
utmost pleasure, and feel grateful for his kindness." 

Sir Edward explained to Don Jose' (who professed to 
understand no more English than Francis did Spanish) 
the purport of his words. Don Jose, smiling blandly, 
said — 

" The preliminary proceedings, though very simple, are 
none the less necessary. There is at Santa Marta, as at 
every port on the Spanish Main, a government officer 
called the Syndic. He has his instructions and authority 
from his majesty King Philip of Spain, and is at once the 
comptroller of the customs and chief magistrate of the 
port. He has absolute power to deal as he may think 
best in all questions relating to foreigners. His name is 
Don Placido Ortigoza ; he is a courteous gentleman, and I 
have the honour to be his friend. Let us then seek him 
at once, and I have no doubt that, charmed by the prompt 
visit of eourtesy of Captain Drake, Don Placido will give 
him all the papers and passes necessary for his project. 

Don Jose laid considerable stress on the words, visit of 

Sir Edward smiled, and explained in English the mean- 
ing of the words. 

" Ah !" said Francis, also smiling, "visit of courtesy ! 
I fancy that that in Spanish means a present of a large 
purse of gold to Don Placido, and a smaller one to Don 

" Hush ! " said Sir Edward, in a low voice, grasping hia 
arm , " be careful what you say." 


* Aiid why ? Don Jose cannot understand.* 

" I fancied," said Sir Edward, gravely, "that at your 
words he started and coloured up. At all events, let us 
be on our guard." 

" You think, then, that he understands English ? No 
matter. Surely, even if he does, he will not take offenct 
at a few words spoken in jest. No, certainly not. H 
appears to me a most courteous and affable gentleman." 

" Perhaps so ; but remember, that sometimes extrem 
politeness is but a mask for falsehood and deep designs." 

" Falsehood and deep designs, Sir Edward ! you are in- 
deed suspicious. Why should this gentleman here wish 
to betray or injure us 1 " 

" Why, indeed 1 still I have my misgivings. I do not 
quite like his manner and appearance." 

" His manner and appearance ! Surely his manner is 
polite and courteous, and his appearance noble!" 

Francis was right, for Don Jose was of tall and com- 
manding presence. His features, bronzed by the tropical 
sun, were noble and impressive, and his manner had a 
peculiar suavity and charm. Why, then, should Sir 
Edward doubt his sincerity 1 

In the meantime, Francis had ordered the boat to return 
to the vessel to bring off his sister Amy and Harry. On 
its return, Don Jose gazed with surprise and admiration 
on the beautiful form of the young girl. 

" Had we not better let your sister return on board and 
wait till we have transacted the necessary business with 
Don Placido 1 " said Sir Edward to Francis. 

Ere the latter could reply, Don Jose broke in — 

" By no means ; do not think of sending the young 
lady back to the vessel. Don Placido will be proud and 
giad to entertain, you all, I feel assured." 


Then, darting a rapid glance of admiration at Amy, 
which called a blush to her cheek, he asked Sir Edward — 

" Captain Francis Drake has come with his vessel direct 
from England 1 " 

" Yes, sir, direct from England ; merely calling at 
Madeira on the voyage." 

" And you, sir — are you his first officer ? " 

" No, I am merely a passenger — a friend." 

" Ah ! and may I be so bold as to ask who is that 
young lady who accompanies you 1 " 

" That is Captain Drake's sister." 

" Ah ! It is no wonder that, with such an angel on 
board, you should have made a favourable passage." 

With these words Don Jose bowed profoundly to the 
young girl, casting on ker at the same time a look of ad- 

Amy, although she understood not the words, could not 
fail to understand the bow and the look. She cast down 
her eyes and blushed. 

There was nothing objectionable in the words ; never- 
theless, Sir Edward felt a pang of annoyance. He frowned 
and shot an angry glance at Don Jose, to which the latter 
merely replied by an affable smile. 



The house of Don Placido Ortigoza was situated in the 
centre of the town, in the principal street. It was a good, 
substantial-looking house, and appeared quite handsome in 
comparison with the wretched sheds by which it was eur- 


rounded. A Spanish soldier, in heavy armour, and with 
his musket on his shoulder, marched up and down, keep- 
ing guard over the house of the chief personage in Santa 

Don Jos6, leaving his companions for a moment, entered 
the hall, and asked of a slave who was in attendance for 
his lordship, Don Placido Ortigoza. 

"His lordship sleeps, senor — he is taking his siesta,'' 
was the reply. 

Don Jose nodded his head, as if to say, " No matter ; 
he will see me." 

"I will go and announce you," he said to Francis and 
Sir Edward. "In five minutes I will return." 

So saying, he raised the matting which covered an inner 
door, and disappeared. The slave brought chairs, and 
placed them for the strangers. He was a negro from the 
coast of Gambia, black as ebony, with low forehead, pro- 
minent cheek-bones, coarse woolly hair, flat nose, and 
brutish, stupid look. 

Amy regarded him with astonishment and terror. She 
had never before seen a negro. 

"Well, little sister," said Francis, laughing, "are you 
frightened at this poor devil ? " 

"Devil, indeed," said Amy, "is the right word, for he 
looks scarcely human — so black and so horribly ugly ! " 

" Black and ugly enough, in all conscience," said Francis, 
"but still not quite a devil, Amy. Look at him — how 
stupid and woebegone he looks ! It almost seems that 
since he has been torn away fiom his native land, he has 
forgotten how to think. Ask him, Sir Edward, from what 
country he comes." 

Sir Edward asked him in the Spanish language. 

" Where me born 1 " said the negro, showing his white 


teeth ; " me no savvey long time gone — long way 

"It is as I told you," said Francis ; " the poor fellow 
has forgotten even to think. And it is hy such means as 
this that Sir John Hawkins proposed I should enrich 
myself 'They are not men,' said Sir John. 'They are 
no longer men,' he should have said; 'for slavery has 
reduced them to the level of animals.' " 

Gideon, who had followed his master, touched the 
negro's arm curiously. 

"What are you doing, Gideon?" said Sir Edward, 

" Master, I was wondering " 

" Well, what were you wondering 1 " 

" I was wondering whether these people have sense and 
feeling like ourselvas ; and they have, for see how he 
started when I pinched his arm. Here, Snowball ! " said 
Gideon, "here's a penny for you." 

Sir Edward burst into laughter. 

" You great oaf, you ! " he said to his servant ; "of what 
advantage do you think a penny is to him here, where 
nothing but Spanish money is ever seen f " 

" No matter," said Gideon, shrugging his great shoulders; 
" he can wear it hung round his neck by a chain, as a 
medal. Some day he will meet an Englishman, who will 
give him value for it." 

Sir Edward and Erancis were amusing themselves at the 
grimaces Gideon was making at the black, and at the 
wondering manner in which the latter was turning the 
piece of strange money over and over in his huge hand ; 
when the matting was again raised, and Don Placido, 
followed by Don Jose^ entered the ante-room. 

Pon Placido was well named ; he seemed the very type 


of calm, placid indifference. His large round face assorted 
well with a round, fat body. Imagine Falstaff. after 
having finished sundry tankards of old sack, and you have 
Don Placido. The travellers all rose from their seats on 
the entrance of the Syndic and Don Jose. 

" Pray be seated, gentlemen, be seated," said the former ; 
" do not disturb yourselves for me. And you, too, senorita, 
allow me to offer you this easy-chair ; it is better adapted 
for a lady than the one you have. Excuse me for having 
kept you, but, to tell the truth, I was enjoying my mid- 
day siesta." 

" Accept our apologies, senor," said Sir Edward, " for 
having disturbed you ; but we were not aware of the fact, 
or we would have postponed our visit." 

" Spare your apologies, sir," said Don Placido, urbanely ; 
"when my good friend Don Jose' informed me that some 
noble English merchants had honoured me with a visit, I 
made all haste to attend you." 

" Do not say noble English merchants — I, at least, am 
not noble — but honest English merchants only." 

" Good, good ! " said Don Placido ; " I know the 
English, and appreciate them. They are a great people — 
brave, strong, and noble. Yes, sir strangers, I love the 

Turning to Francis, he continued — 

"And you, sir, I suppose, are the Captain Drake who 
commands the vessel which arrived to-day in our har- 
bour] the I forget the name that Don Jose told 


"The Enterprise." 

Don Placido repeated the words, and asked — 

'*' I suppose, then, that Captain Drake has brought his 
•hip to New Granada for the purpose of trading 1 ' 



'• Yes, senor." 

" And of what is the cargo composed ? " 

" Of every kind of merchandize— clothing, linen, 
blankets, shoes, ploughs, and agricultural implements j 
furniture, arms " 

"Arms!" exclaimed Don Placido, with some little 
animation ; " ah ! you have arms on board 1 " 

" Only a small quantity " 

" Good, good ! Arms are always a good speculation. 
And you have also, I suppose, liquors — Geneva gin, hol- 
lands, brandy ? " 

"X<>, senor," said Sir Edward; "the intention of the 
captain was to trade principally with the native Peruvians 
and Indians. He thought, therefore, that it would be 
moiv laudible to supply them with useful merchandize, 
ratlin- than to pander to their faults and vices." 

l)i m Jose regarded the speaker with a look of astonish- 
ment and pity. After a silence of a few moments, Don 
Placido, whose smooth face was unruffled by any emotion, 
said urbanely — 

" But, senor Francis Drake, you say you design to traffic 
with the Indians. It is true that at the present time we 
are at peace with them, in proof of which, you may see, 
this very day, some of their greatest chiefs in the town. 
Still, senor, has it never occurred to you that, when you 
shall have sold to them the arms and ammunition which 
you have on board, that we may be again at war with 
them ? It would not, then, be to the interests of Spain 
that they should be allowed to obtain an unlimited supply 
-»f the weapons of warfare. Do you understand my 
/leaning? " 

Sir Edward explained to Francis Don Placido's objec- 


The young captain had foreseen the objection as to the 
arms and ammunition, and had resolved, should any objec- 
tion arise to their sale, to place them on one side for a 
future opportunity. 

"Tell Don Placido," said Francis, "that we will no v 
trade with the Indians for arms or ammunition without 
the knowledge and consent of the Spanish officers in 
Santa Marta." 

" Good ! "■ said Don Placido, when this was explained 
to him, apparently quite reassured ; " good, indeed ; I 
thought that the wise and noble English had no designs 
injurious to the interests of Spain, or of us who receive 
them as brothers." 

Rising as he said these words, he placed his hand fami- 
liarly and kindly on the shoulder of Sir Edward, and 
said — 

" Tell Captain Drake, my dear sir, that to-morrow, if he 
pleases, he can commence to discharge his cargo. Tell him, 
also, that I will place an empty warehouse at his disposal, 
and that as the work of unloading is long and fatiguing, 
that I will send to help him twenty of my negroes." 

"Don Placido is only too good," said Francis, when Sir 
Edward explained to him what was said ; " it would Le 
uncourteous to refuse his offer, so we will accept it with 
many thanks." 

" And now, gentlemen," said Don Placido, as if about 
to bid them adieu, " can I do anything else for you 1 " 

Sir Edward bowed, and was about to speak, when 
Francis caught his arm, and said — 

" But we have not yet spoken of the per centage — the 
customs' dues to be paid on landing the cargo." 

" Pardon me, senor," said Sir Edward to Don Placido, 
"my friend, Captain Drake, has just said to me that 


you can confer one more favour on us before we 

Don Placido smiled blandly, and said — 
" iSTame it, senor ; and if in my power, I will grant it." 
" It is tbis, senor : Captain Drake wishes to know the 
amount of the customs' dues to be paid to you on landing 
the cargo 1 " 

A bland smile was on Don Placido's lips as he replied — 
"We will discuss that question another day," he said, 
in a careless, off-hand manner; "in the meanwhile, you 
can tell Captain Drake, for his satisfaction, that it is my 
custom to treat foreign travellers and merchants in the 
most paternal manner. Does Captain Drake consider two 
per cent, on the sum at which the cargo is valued an 
exorbitant demand 1 " 

" Two per cent ! " cried Francis, joyfully ; " tell Don 
Placido, Sir Edward, that so far from considering it exor- 
bitant, I will gladly pay so moderate a demand." 

"Adieu, then, till to-morrow," said Don Placido; 
" meanwhile, senor captain, you can rely on my assistance 
and paternal protection, should you require it." 

"Two per cent.," muttered Francis, as they left the 
Syndic's house ; "it is most moderate — it is nothing ! And 
I was told in London that the Dutch and French mer- 
chants who had endeavoured to trade in the Spanish 
American possessions had been outrageously imposed on 
and robbed by the Spanish authorities. Only two per 
cent., Sir Edward ! I had never hoped for such good luck. 
Why, we shall make our fortune even more rapidly than I 

"True," said Sir Edward, gravely; "but " 

He checked himself, for Francis seemed in such high 
spirits, and so delighted, that he thought he would not 


damp his joy by giving expression to the misgivings and 
suspicions which had seized him, but which, perhaps, 
were, after all, groundless. 

"Ah!" cried Francis, suddenly halting, "there is Don 
Jose de Castanares, and we have not thanked him for his 
civility. Hasten, Sir Edward, and convey to him our 
gratitude ; it is to him we owe the introduction to Don 



Don Jose de Castanares left the Syndic's house a few 
moments after Sir Edward, Francis, and Amy. 

Sir Edward hastened to thank him for his kindness. 
Almost at the first words of thanks, he interrupted — 

"Senor," he said, "I should much regret that you 
should attach any importance to so simple a service. If 
you wish to show that you are obliged to me, you can best 
do so by permitting me to offer you some refreshments at 
my house." 

They could not refuse the hospitality of a man who gave 
such proofs of his willingness to serve them. Even Sir 
Edward, in spite of his secret dislike to and distrust of the 
Spaniard, accepted, without hesitation, the offer. 

The dwelling of Don Jose' was on the left of the port, 
and quite in the suburbs of the town. To arrive there, it 
was necessary to pass through winding lanes, shaded by 
noble trees. On each side were indigo and cochineal 
plantations and fields of sugar-cane. 

Amy was radiant with joy. Her beautiful eyes had 
ample matter to delight them. When they arrived at 


the large and carefully kept garden which surrounded the 
Spanish captain's house, her delight knew no bounds. 
The American flora was to her at once novel and beau- 

" This is merely a little country villa of mine," said 
Don Jose, as they entered this Eden ; " my profession 
compels me to be more on the sea than on land. Never- 
theless, as I usually spend two months every year on 
shore at Santa Marta, I contrive to make my abode as 
comfortable as possible. Ah!" he continued, seeing 
Amy's longing look at the beautiful flowers, " I see that 
the senorita admires my flowers. Tell her, sir, that they 
are at her service.'" 

This was accompanied by a gallant bow. 

"Amy," said Sir Edward, smiling, "the Captain Jose" 
de Castanares imagines that you have a great desire to rob 
his garden of some of those beautiful flowers. He gives 
you full permission so to do." 

"Ah!" cried Amy, joyfully, "the senor is, indeed, 
kind ; give him my thanks. Come, Harry, come with me, 
and help me to gather a bouquet." 

" Directly, sister — directly," said the youth." 

Directly ! Master Harry told a fib ; for as Don Jos5 
walked along the path in front with Sir Edward and 
Francis, Harry was busily engaged in plucking peaches, 
which hung in profusion from a tree at a little distance. 

Every one to his taste; and to the taste of Master 
Harry fruits were preferable to flowers. 

A sudden cry called his attention from his agreeable 

It was Amy who had given the cry. 

"Amy, Amy! what is the matter?" he said, running 
to his sister. 


Pale, trembling, the flowers she had gathered fallen 
from her hand and scattered on the ground, Amy stood 
pointing before her to the form of a hideous reptile which 
was running nimbly up the trunk of a tree. 

It was a species of lizard, but of gigantic dimensions — 
six feet in length at the least. The body and tail were 
covered by rough "scales ; a row of these scales ranged 
along the back like spines ; its head was long and pointed, 
like that of an alligator ; its small, round, fiery eyes seemed 
to glare at them, while from its gaping mouth it kept 
darting forth a long, forked tongue, like that of a serpent. 
ISTo wonder Amy was frightened, for the animal was quite 
hideous enough. Harry was no coward ; nevertheless, 
when his eyes fell on the reptile, he, like his sister, gave a 
cry of terror. 

" Come away, come away ! " he cried, seizing Amy by 
the arm, who seemed petrified at the sight. 

Harry had almost to carry her away, for she was com* 
pletely paralyzed by terror. 

In the meanwhile, Don Jose had conducted the strangers 
into his house. They found a cold collation prepared for 

They were seating themselves at the table, at Don Josh's 
request, when the latter suddenly exclaimed — 

"But the nina*— where is she?" 

" Gideon," said Sir Edward, " run and tell Miss Amy 
and her brother that Don Jose" awaits them at table." 

" Ko matter," said Francis, laughing ; " she is happy 
enough among the flowers. Give her but flowers, and I'll 
warrant she will care little for the grandest banquet ever 
set before a king." 

As she approached the house with Harry, Amy had 
• Young lady. 


regained some of hex composure ; but still she looked so 
pale and frightened when she appeared in answer to the 
message sent by Gideon, that all observed it. 

"Why, Amy, what is the matter?" cried Sir Edward 
and Francis at the same time. 

" "We have discovered," said Harry, trying to look 
unconcerned, " that there are other things besides roses in 
the gardens of the New World." 

" What do you mean ? Explain yourself." 

"Why, senor, Amy was gathering a bouquet, when 
suddenly there appeared before her a frightful beast." 

" A frightful beast ! " said Sir Edward. " What was it 
— a serpent 1 " 

" Oh, no ; it could not have been a serpent, for it had 

" And great scales on its back, and such a terrible head 
and mouth ! " cried Amy. " Oh, it was a terrible 
monster ! " 

"Ah," said Don Jose, smiling, "it was an iguano. 
They are not dangerous, though to a stranger sufficiently 

"Ah!" cried Sir Edward, suddenly, and fixing his 
piercing eyes on Don Jose ; " it was an iguano, and they 
are not dangerous, you say 1 " 

Don Jose coloured slightly, and looked confused under 
the Englishman's piercing glance. Sir Edward was 
amazed that Don Jose, who pretended not to know 
English, could understand from the description of Amy 
and Harry what kind of animal it was. Still keeping hia 
keen eye on his face, he said — 

" Excuse me, senor, but do you understand the English 
language 1 ?" 

"Only a few words here and there," said Don Jose, 


smiling, and trying to look unconcerned. "I unde;~stood 
and guessed more from the gestures of the young lady and 
her brother than from the words." 

It would have been unpolite to appear to disbelieve 
their host's words ; so Sir Edward bowed politely, though 
his mind was filled with misgiving. 

Sir Edward then explained to Amy that the creature 
was harmless. The colour came back to her fair cheek, 
and she laughed at her former folly. 

All now seated themselves, and partook of the repast 
which Don Jose had provided for them. At the con- 
clusion, Sir Edward thanked their host in his own name 
and that of his companions. 

"I hope, gentlemen, and you, senorita, that I shall 
have again the pleasure of seeing you, before I leave this 

"Before you leave!" said Sir Edward, in surprise; 
" are you, then, going to leave ? " 

" Yes ; to-morrow evening, at the latest, I set sail foi 

On learning that Don Jose would only remain for one 
day more in Santa Marta, Sir Edward's involuntary repug- 
nance and suspicion of the man abated. 

" So soon 1 " he said, gaily. " Well, then, Don Jos4 
if it is to be so, Captain Drake and I will wait on you 
to-morrow, to bid you adieu, and a pleasant voyage to 

" Thanks, senor ; you shall, if it pleases you, dine with 
me. I see so little company, that you can hardly conceive 
the pleasure which yours gives me. So do not forget — ■ 
to-morrow, at the same hour." 

Sir Edward having spoken to Erancis, signified his 
assent to this arrangement. Then they all rose to leave, 


Don Jose" took a large bouquet of the choicest flowers 
from a vase on the sideboard, and presented them to Amy, 

" Since the terrible beast in the garden frightened you, 
young lady, and prevented you from gathering your 
bouquet, permit me to offer you this one." 

Amy, blushing, took the flowers and said — 

" Oh, senor, you are too kind ! " 

Don Jose" laid his hand on his heart, and bowed pro- 
foundly, at the same time regarding the young girl with 
an unmistakeable look of admiration and gallantry. 

It was the close of the day ere Don Jose's visitor's left 
his house. 

Francis Drake and Amy walked in front, while Harry, 
following close behind, was in deep conversation with 
Gideon, concerning that villanous monster which had so 
frightened his sister. 

Lastly came Sir Edward Dudley, buried in profound 
thought. He was thinking of their singularly urbane and 
polite reception by the Spanish captain, and was wonder- 
ing what could have been the cause of so much apparent 
good feeling on his part to them. He was not, like Francis, 
overjoyed at it, but thought of it with suspicion and in- 

His experience of the world taught him that, when 
people are ostentatiously and gratuitously civil, they have 
frequently some sinister object in view. 

Sir Edward wandered slowly on, allowing the others to 

get far in front of him. The cloud on his brow plainly 

indicated that his thoughts were black and gloomy enough. 

Sauntering slowly along, he arrived at a place in the 

narrow lane or path bordered by a little thicket of shruba 

The others were out of sight 


Suddenly a form darted out of the shrubs, and stood in 
the path before him. 

Sir Edward started back, for he saw before him a Eed 
Indian, naked to the waist, and adorned, after the manner 
of his nation, with plumes of feathers and beads. His 
face and body were tattooed with strange and horrible 
devices ; he carried, slung at his back, spears, bow, and 
arrows, while by his side was the deadly tomahawk. 

iSio wonder, then, that Sir Edward should start back, 
and feel for his sword. His surprise was the greater when 
the Indian advanced, apparently with no hostile intent, 
and said, in English, the words — 

" Peace, white man. Indian not on the war-trail." 

Then the savage extended his hand, and gave Sir 
Edward a small branch of the Abanijo tree. 

Sir Edward took it in mute astonishment ; and the 
Indian, saying the words, "This for you," vanished as 
suddenly as he appeared. 

" Sir Edward ! Sir Edward ! " said the clear, silvery 
voice of Amy, calling him ; " we are waiting for you ; are 
you not coming ? " 

Sir Edward had remained gazing in mute astonishment 
at the branch which he held in his hand. 

He started, and hurried on at the sound of Amy's voice. 
As he hurried on, he examined more closely the branch. 

" "What can be the meaning of it 1 " he said to himself 
again and again. 

Suddenly he perceived among the leaves a small slip of 
paper. It was twined round one of the twigs. 

He proceeded to unfold it, and read some characters 
inscribed in a very small handwriting. 

As he did so, he turned ashly pale, and let the branch 
fall from his hand. 


The perspiration burst forth on his forehead, and he 
gasped for breatn. No criminal going to execution could 
have looked more horrified. 

What was it he saw which thus struck him with horror 
and dismay ? 

There were five words only written on the slip of 

Those words were — 

" Cain, where is thy brother 1 " 



On the next day, at daylight, the Enterprise commenced 
to discharge her cargo. 

Don Placido sent on board, according to his promise, 
twenty of his negro slaves to assist the sailors in the labour. 
The work commenced at four o'clock in the morning, and 
was completed by nooi<. All the packages, cases, and 
bales, which for two months had lain in the hold of the 
brig, were now safe in a large warehouse which Don Pla- 
cido had given them. 

Francis Drake, who had remained on board to superin- 
tend the unloading, while Will and Michael saw to the 
safe stowing in the warehouse, gave a shout of joy as the 
last package brought from England was landed on American 

" Now," he said joyfully to Harry, •* if Heaven only 
vouchsafes as good fortune to the merchant as to the 
mariner, in fifteen days we shall have made enough out of 
hut venture to return to England and freight six vessels 


instead of one. Ah ! ah ! Harry, my boy, I knew not till 
now how easy and pleasant it is to become rich ! " 

As he said these words, he perceived his friend and 
benefactor, Sir Edward, who was leaning against the mast, 
looking gloomy and unhappy. 

" My poor Sir Edward," said Francis, "you look ill and 
wan ; the noise and confusion on board troubles you. 
Perhaps, too, we disturbed your rest in commencing so 
early in the morning 1 " 

The other shook his head. 

" No, Francis, the noise did not disturb my rest, for I 
have not lain down since yesterday." 

" You did not seek to sleep ? " said Francis, in surprise ; 
" but it is only the guilty, the bad, who do not sleep, and 
you are good and noble. Oh ! this is very strange — you 
look, too, sad and troubled ; may I be allowed to ask what 
it is which grieves you 1 " 

Sir Edward hesitated before he answered, 

" I am sad," he said at last, " and have reason to be 
so ; because, this very day, in a few hours, I must leave 

" You must leave us ! " cried Francis, in astonishment j 
" is it possible ? are you really serious 1 Why must you 
do so ? " 

" Because I must." 

" Because you must ! That is scarcely an answer. " 

" Pardon me, my friend, but it is the only one I can 
give you." 

" And where, then, are you going 1 " 

" I know not ; but chance will direct me on this, as on 
many other occasions." 

Francis looked at his benefactor as if he thought he had 
taken leave of his senses. 


" Yes," continued the latter, "chance must direct me. 
Yesterday evening a grave event happened — an event which 
should be for me a happy one as well. In truth, I am 
sorry to be sad when 1 should be gay ; for, perhaps, I am 
on the point of attaining that for which I have been 
striving for five years." 

" And it is in Santa Marta, in a country where you have 
never before set foot, that this event is to happen 1 " said 
Francis, in still greater astonishment. 

" Yes ; see here, this branch, which an Indian gave me 
yesterday evening." And he gave to Francis the branch of 
the tree on which he had discovered the slip of paper with 
the mysterious inscription. 

" Indian ! " said Francis, " but I saw you speak to no 
one yesterday evening ! " 

" For a very good reason, for you were far from me at 
the time. And even had you been by my side, you would 
have gained but little, since I myself can scarcely under- 
stand the import of the message." 

" And what meaning do you then attach to it 1 " 

Sir Edward was about to reply, when the attention of 
both was arrested by a disturbance on the quay. Whilst 
they had been conversing on board the brig, a crowd had 
gathered about the door of the warehouse which Don Pla- 
cido had allotted for the cargo of the vessel. In the 
midst of the crowd they could distinguish Will and 
Michael, with many of the sailors. Apparently, they 
were disputing- hotly with a number of Spanish soldiers. 

"What can be the matter 1" said Francis: "there 
seems to be a disturbance of some kind." 

At that instant he heard his name shouted from the 

" Come, Sir Edward," he said, running to the gangway 


where the boat was made fast, " let us go ; apparently I 
am wanteA" 

Followed by Sir Edward, Francis leaped into the boat, 
and was rowed towards the quay. 

Until they reached the land, neither spoke ; they 
watched with increasing wonder and alarm the strange 
proceedings at the warehouse. 

On seeing the boat from the brig approach, Will and 
Michael, followed by the sailors, made their way through 
the crowd and hastened towards the landing-place. 

Francis leapt on shore. 

" What is the matter ? what is all this disturbance 
about ? what does it mean 1 " 

" Tt means," said Will, hurriedly, " that there is a base 
conspiracy to rob us !" 

" To rob us ! " said Francis ; " how so 1 

" You see those Spanish soldiers 1 " 

" Well ! " 

" Well, when we had safely stowed all tlie cargo in the 
warehouse, they entered, and thrust us forcibly out." 

" They thrust you out ! and you did not, then, resist 1 " 

" Eesist ! how could we resist ? there were a hundred 
of them ; they were all armed, and we were but twenty." 

" But did they give no explanation — no reason 1 " 

" They said nothing ; but you know well none of us 
understand Spanish ! " 

Francis Drake looked with lowering brow and flashing 
eyes at the soldiers drawn up in line before the warehouse 
where his cargo was deposited. 

" It cannot be — there must be some mistake. My 
friend," he continued to Sir Edward, "come with me, and 
ask them by what right " 

Sir Edward interrupted, and pointed with his finge 


" See, there is Don Placido himself just arrived ; let U8 
and inquire of him." 

" You are right," said Francis ; " come." 

And, accompanied by Sir Edward, his brothers, and the 

ilors, Francis hurried up to the Syndic. 

On seeing them approach, Don Placido said some words 
in a low tone to the officer in command of the soldiers. 

These then formed a half-circle round the Syndic. 

" It seems to me," said Francis, " that Don Placido is 
very fearful, for he takes great precautions for his safety 
on our approach." 

" Senor," said Sir Edward in Spanish, and not heeding 
the words of Francis, " will you be so good as to explain 
by what right and by whose orders these soldiers have 
forcibly expelled our sailors from the warehouse you gave 
us, and why they now stand before the entrance, barring 
our way 1 " 

Don Placido, smiling and urbane as ever, bowed politely, 
and replied : — 

" Senor, my soldiers have expelled your sailors because 
they were ordered so to do. For the same reason they are 
drawn up before the door to prevent your entrance." 

When Sir Edward explained the meaning of these 
words, Francis bounded forward, as if to attack the 
Syndic. However, his friend restrained him, and con- 
tinued : — 

" Ah ! you say, then your soldiers expelled our sailors, 
and refuse them access to a warehouse which is filled with 
our goods, and which warehouse you yourself specially 
allotted to us. By whose orders is this done 1 " 

" By my orders," was the placid reply. 

" By your orders. And for what reason ! What are 
we to understand ] " 


.Don Placklo hesitated to reply. Even the most har- 
dened hesitate sometimes to avow their iniquity. 

"Senor," he said, at last, "I might, if I chose, decline 
to give you any reasons for acting as I have done ; but I 
am a just and reasonable man, and will answer you. It 
is in the execution of my duty as chief magistrate of Santa 
Marta that I order my soldiers to refuse you admittance 
to the warehouse. I have given that order because no 
government and no subjects other than those of his glo- 
rious Majesty King Philip 11. of Spain have the right to 
trade in the ports of South America. For that reason, to 
my great regret, I am compelled to confiscate the cargo 
which you have brouglit to Santa Marta." 

Sir Edward turned pale with anger at these treacheroui 

•' What does On say?" cried Francis, impatiently. 

" He says that which proves to me that my suspicions 
and forebodings of yesterday were correct." 

"And that is 1" 

" He says, my poor Francis, that in virtue of his office 
of chief magistrate, he is bound to forbid all commerce 
by foreigners with South America ; and also that he 
confiscates the cargo which you have landed from the 

A cry of rage broke from Francis, and was taken up by 
his brothers and the sailors, at these words. 

At that cry Don Placido hastily retreated into the midst 
of the soldiers. 

" It is an infamy, an outrage !" cried Francis, furiousl 
" Speak to him again. It is impossible he can persist 
so villanous a design ; it is impossible that, in the 
ol the law, we should be robbed by thieves and b 
and pirates, for are we not at peace with Spain i" 



Sir Edward endeavoured to calm the excitement of 
Francis ; and, turning again to Don Placido, said : — 

" Senor, I have told Captain Drake of the unheard-of 
step you have taken, and he cannot believe that you are 
really serious. He says such infamy cannot be." 

" I am extremely sorry for Captain Drake," replied Don 
Placido, blandly as ever ; " but the step I have felt it my 
duty to take is as serious as it is irrevocable. The cargo 
is confiscated, and will be sold by public auction for the 
benefit of the Government." 

" But, senor, your actions to-day are very different from 
your words of yesterday. How can you reconcile the pro- 
fessions of kindness and regard to us, made but yesterday 
with such an outrage as this 1 ?" 

" Senor," said Don Placido, " T am surprised that you, 
a man of sense, should ask such a question." 
"And why should you be astonished?" 
" Senor," replied Don Placido, bowing with great polite- 
ness ; "you will perceive, if you consider the subject, that 
there are certain little delicate artifices to which a man in 
my position must occasionally resort, as circumstances 
demand. Fair and easy is always • better than violence. 
You know the meaning of the words, suaviter in modo, 
fortit&r in re. Surely it is better for all that I should do 
my duty quietly and peaceably than that I should be com- 
pelled to use force to you or any other gentleman." 

" Ah, I understand," said Sir Edward, bitterly ; '' you 
thought you could rob us more easily by lying, than by 
avowing your intentions." 

Don Placido coloured with anger. 

" Have a care what you say, sir. How can you call a 
noobery that which is in accordance with the law 1" 
" But if such a law exist, we were in ignorance oi if" 


"So much the worse for you." 

"It was your place to have informed us of that law," 
said Sir Edward, with rising anger, " instead of trea- 
cherously beguiling us with soft words and promises to 
land our cargo." 

" Once again, sir, be careful what you say. Every per- 
son understands his own affairs best ; everyone has his 
own mode. As for me, I prefer to do things peaceably 
and quietly. If I am wrong, it is all to your advantage. 
Yesterday evening Captain Drake informed me that he 
had arms on board to sell to the Indians. That alone is 
an offence against the Spanish Riws, and for that alone I 
could, if I chose, arrest him, and throw him into prison. 
But I did not wish to go to such an extremity, and you 
reward my forbearance by impertinence and insult. I do 
not wish to trouble myself further about the matter ; but I 
promise you that, if in twenty-four hours you have not set 
sail for England, not content with confiscating the cargo, 
I will throw you into prison for as long a time as I please. 
And, moreover, I promise you that when you are set at 
liberty you will not find your brig in the harbour. That 
is all I have to say, so take heed." 

And, with those words, Don Placido turned his back to 
them, and walked away. 



Having giving utterance to these last words, Don Plwfrtn 
coolly turned his back. 

*• The scoundrelly Soaniard has completely thrown aside 


the mask," said Sir Edward to Francis. " He unblueb 
ingly avows that he was befooling us yesterday, and gives 
us our choice between a prison and departure from Santa 
Marta within four-and-twenty hours." 

" Prison, or leave within twenty-four hours ? " exclaimed 
Francis ; " and does the villain believe that we are such 
cowards as to submit to such a barefaced robbery 1 " 

" And what will you do 1 " 

Francis glanced angrily and threateningly towards the 

" Would you attack these thieves of Spaniards ? " con- 
tinued Sir Edward. 

•' And why not 1 " cried Francis, angrily. Then turning 
towards the sailors, he said, " What say you, my lads 1 — 
are we Englishmen to be robbed and cheated by a set of 
rascally Spaniards 1 " 

" No, no ! " shouted twenty voices. 

" Let us go on board the brig and arm ourselves. Then 
let us return, and take by force that which belongs to us." 

" On board ! on board !" is now the cry on all hands ; 
" let us get arms ! " 

The sailors hastened towards the quay, where lay the 
•boat. Loud and angry were their cries and threats as 
they hurried on in a body. 

Francis was about to follow them, when Sir Edward 
seized his arm. 

" Madman ! what are you about to do 1 " he said, " You 
will ruin us all ! " 

" Let those who fear to risk the ruin stand aloof; for 
me, I mean to obtain my rights at the sword's point, if 
ueeu Le. If jou fear, do not you risk yourself! " 

Francis said these ungenerous words hastily, on tha spui 
•jt oae moment. 


Sir Edward seemed hurt at them, and replied — ■ 

" You wrong me, Francis ; you ought to know that I 
am no coward. Bust I have had more experience of battles 
than you, and know the difference between bravery and 
mere rash folly. Now be reasonable ; surely you do not 
propose to defeat the garrison and take the town of Santa 
Marta by assault, with some forty men and a little brig 1 " 

" I propose to avenge myself on those who have robbed 
me. and to have my rights, though I risk my life ! " 

" But Low can you do this ? Just consider for a moment 
what you are about to do ! You may perhaps kill a few 
soldiers, who will be immediately replaced by others. 
Don Placido will keep himself out of harm's way, and, 
meanwhile, you will be exposing brave men — men who 
are your friends— to death and imprisonment ; for, as- 
suredly the result of the fight will be, that we shall be all 
either killed or taken prisoners. Then, consider for your 
Bister, the gentle Amy ; think of her in the hands of brutal, 
tyrannical, and licentious men, with no one to protect her 
— you, I, and your brothers all dead or captured ! Oh ! it 
is dreadful to contemplate, so think better of it. As for 
me, if you think I fear for myself, you are mistaken ; if 
you will rush into this mad conflict, Sir Edward Dudley 
wall fight to the last gasp by your side. Nevertheless, 
once again I beg you not to do this thing ! " 

" My friend, my benefactor, you are right," said Francis 
the tears coming to his eyes at the words of the other ; 
"pardon my words, so unjust and ungenerous. For my 
own life I care not, but you call to my mind that, did this 
end fatally, I should be responsible to my mother for the 
blood of her children. And so," he added, bitterly, "you 
think we must tamely submit to this outrage ? I am but 
a poor Englishman, the captain of a small brig, which your 


bounty, Sir Edward, provided me. Is it just then, be- 
cause I am defenceless, that I should be robbed 1 But let 
the robbers beware ! It is their turn to-day — but hear me, 
Heaven, while I swear a terrible vengeance on the op- 
pressors !" 

Then tbe young man raised hia clenched fist aloft, and 
addressing the sailors in a loud, commanding voice, said — 

" Hear me, my lads ! We are now weak and powerless 
against these thieves and cut-throats ; they insult, rob, and 
laugh at us. Let them beware, for if we do net get j ustice, 
I — even I, Francis Drake — will make my name and that 
of the crew of the Enterprise, a terror in Spanish ears ! 
We came here to trade honourably, fairly, honestly, and 
we are met by outrage and barefaced robbery. On their 
heads be it — I will never rest till I have exacted a stern 
vengeance ! We will be indeed the Demons of the Sea I 
From this day shall date the overthrow of the Spanish 
dominion in South America ! I will drive them from the 
seas — hunt them from the land ; the decks of their war- 
ships shall be slippery with gore — their rivers shall run 
blood ! I will, ere I relinquish, turn against them the 
very Indians they have oppressed ; I will make the name 
of Spaniard accursed wherever I go, and the name of an 
Englishman feared and respected ! JSTow hear me, Heaven, 
while I take this solemn vow of vengeance ! " 

As he delivered these words in a loud, clear voice, hia 
eyes sparkled, and his whole frame seemed to expand. 

Even Sir Edward looked and listened in astonishment. 
He saw before him, not the boy-captain— the peaceable 
mercnant — but a desperate, determined man. The fire in 
his eye gave force to his words, and when he .finished, a 
thrill went through all who heard. They heard and felt 
in his words not the empty threatunings and boasting of 


an angry man, but a solemn prophecy, certain to be ful- 
filled. None could analyze or account for this impression, 
but even Sir Edward felt it most powerfully. 

A strong presentiment — a foreshadowing of a bloody 
future — came over him. "Francis Drake," he muttered 
to himself, " your name will yet ring in every quarter of 
the world." 

" Here comes Don Jose de Castanares," suddenly ex- 
claimed Sir Edward ; " let us see what explanation he will 
give of the treachery of the man he introduced us to as his 

Don Jose" approached slowly, looking about him in ap- 
parent astonishment at the crowd, the array of soldiers, 
and the group of sailors. 

Francis rushed towards him with fury in his countenance, 
as if about to attack him at once. 

His friend, however, restrained him, saying — 
" Have patience ! Let us at least hear what this gentle- 
man has to say for his friend's perfidy. We can then 
judge how far he is an accomplice. 

" Don Jose," continued Sir Edward, " what is the 
meaning of this outrage? Since you are so intimate a 
friend of Don Placido's, perhaps you will explain the 
meaning of his base conduct. You told us that he was a 
brave and honourable man, and we find him a thief. You 
said that he was always most courteous and fraternal in 
his dealings with foreigners, and we see our cargo confis- 
cated, our sailors expelled from the warehouse by his 

" How ! your goods confiscated — your sailors expelled ?* 
cried Don Jose, in astonishment, " What do you mean 1 
Surely I do not hear aright. There must be some mis- 


understanding here. Don Placido could never act in so 
perfidious a manner." 

" Do you doubt the fact 1 " said Sir Edward, pointing 
to the soldiers drawn up before the warehouse. " Behold 
our goods, and the soldiers of Don Placido, who prevent 
our access to them. Ask himself if it is not so." 

Don Jose" strode up to Don Placido, his handsome 
features flushed with rage — 

" Senor Don Placido," he said, " what is all this I 
hear? These English gentlemen, who have been my 
guests, inform me that you have confiscated their cargo> 
and have placed a guard over it, to prevent their having 
access to it." 

" Don Jose is right," says the Syndic, blandly. " In 
the execution of my duty I have been under the painful 
necessity of so acting." 

" What ! " exclaimed Don Jos<5, " after your professions 
of friendship, made but yesterday, you act thus? But 
you are only jesting. Enough ! Jest or earnest, I demand 
that this go no further. I request you will immediately 
return to these foreigners their property, and make suitable 
apology, or I shall hold you answerable to me for your 

" Don Jose," said Don Placido, quietly, " I know my 
own business best. I cannot comply with your request. 
In the performance of my duty to His Majesty the King 
of Spain, I have confiscated the property of these strangers ; 
and in the execution of the same duty, unpleasant though 
it be, I adhere to my resolution." 

" Tnen, Sir Syndic," said Don Jose\ passionately, " I, 
even I, Don Jose de Castanares, a noble Spaniard, hold 
yuu responsible. 1 will let you know what it is to trifle 


with a captain in the service of His Majesty the King of 
Spain. So on your head be it." 

Don Placido merely replied by a quiet bow, while Don 
Jose, with a threatening gesture, turned away, and rejoined 
Sir Edward Dudley and Francis. 

" I was mistaken in this man," he said ; " I thought 
him an honourable Spanish gentleman, and find him a 
treacherous villain ! ISTo matter ; I will make him pay 
clearly for his perfidy to you and his insolence to me ! I 
have influence far greater than his, and will bring him to 
a stern reckoning." 

Sir Edward explained to Francis all that passed. 

This latter, who a few minutes before felt inclined to 
attack Don Josd as an accomplice of the Syndic's, now felt 
the greatest confidence in the handsome Spanish captain. 

" I wish to convince you, gentlemen," continued Don 
Jose, " that I have no hand in this detestable treason. I 
will assist and advise you how to remedy this disaster. 
You must set forth for Carthagena without delay." 

" For Carthagena ? What is the distance, and where- 
fore, must we journey thither ? " 

" The distance is only some thirty miles You can 
journey there to-night, and return to-morrow. I myself 
will lend you horses. As for why you must go there, I 
will tell you. Carthagena is the capital of the country, 
and there resides the Captain-General of New Granada. I 
■will give you a letter of introduction, informing him of 
the treacherous conduct of Don Placido, who is subordi- 
nate to him. I doubt not that he will immediately cause 
him to be arrested, ana older your goods to be restored to 

"Ah, senor/' cried Francis, "you are indeed ^.luu i -a.* 


least all Spaniards are not false and treacherous, like that 
man. You, at least, are noble and honourable." 

Don Jose's handsome features glowed with pleasure 
at these flattering words. He drew his noble figure up, 
and then bowed with an air of proud satisfaction, saying—- 
" Gentlemen, I require no thanks. I merely do this to 
prove to you that I have no complicity in the villany of 
the Syndic. The name of the Captain-General is Don 
Ramonde Calverizo. It is to him you must hasten to lay 
your complaint. I told you before that I must set sail for 
Spain this evening. Were it not so, I myself would Wil- 
li ugly accompany you to Carthagena, and press on the 
Captain-General the flagrant outrage you have been sub- 
jected to. I will provide you with horses from my own 
stable. In further proof of my sincerity, if any one of 
you gentlemen still think I had any hand in this treason 
— if any of you have the slightest cloubt of my honour — I 
will, although at the risk of losing my commission, by not 
sailing to-night, accompany you myself." 

As he said these words in a frank, generous manner, 
Don Jose looked so brave and noble, that no one could 
any longer doubt his truth. 

Francis, when the purport of his last words was ex- 
plained to him, exclaimed warmly — 

" Far be it from us, noble sir, to doubt your honour, or 
to subject you to the displeasure of your Government for 
our sake. "We thank you from our hearts, as true and 
honest Englishmen, and accept the generous offer you 
make us of horses to convey us to Carthagena. Eest 
assured that thev shall be safely returned, and that, if 
ever it lays in our power, we will repay the service a 



" And now, senors," said Don Jose, " the sooner you 
start the better. How many of you propose to go V 

" I," answered Sir Edward, " Captain Drake, and, if 
you can oblige us with three horses, my faithful servant 
here, Gideon." 

" Be it so," said Don Jose, gaily. " Now, Senor Captain 
Drake, give orders to your men to return on board the brig, 
and follow me to my house. We will partake of a little 
refreshment, and in an hour's time you shall be on the 
road to Carthagena." 

Francis spoke to his brothers, and gave the necessary 
orders to the sailors. 

" Pardon me, Don Jose," said Sir Edward " but I see 
that my servant is not here. I will return, and order him 
to follow us ; fear not that I shall detain you , I will be 
at your house almost as soon as yourself." 

Don Jose bowed assent, ana Sir Edward Dudley hurried 

But there was another reason which prompted him to 
return, besides ordering Gideon to attend him. 

He remembered the gentle Amy, and did not wish to 
leave without first seeing her, and assuring her of her 
brother's safety in their projected expedition to Cartha- 

He found Amy with Gideon Glossop, who delighted in 
nothing more than in entertaining the young girl with 
wonderful tales of his own and his master's prowess in 
the Avars. 

Sir Edward explained to the young girl in a few words 
the treachery of Don Placido, and the necessity there was 
for himself and Francis to set out at once for Carthagena 
When he had finished, Amy said — 

"And you hope to be successful in your mission?'' 


" Assuredly so ; all men are not as covetous and trea- 
cherous as Don Placido." 

"But if anything should happen to you or Francis J" 
said Amy, with pale face and tearful eyes. 

"Why, what do you think can happen to us, Amy? 
We shall be well mounted and well armed, and Gideon 
will accompany us." 

" Ah, Gideon is going with you V said Amy, brightening 
up. " I am glad of that, for he has been telling me all 
the morning what a terrible fellow he was to fight, and 
how you would have been killed a dozen times had not he 
come to your assistance. 

"Gideon is a true and faithful fellow, Amy, albeit 
somewhat given to drawing the long-bow as to his own 

" Oli, indeed, you wrong him, for he talked far more of 
you than himself. He told me of the battles you had 
been in, and of the brave knights and gentlemen you had de- 
feated, and of the many perils which your skill and courage 
had brought you safely through. Oh, indeed, I know all 
about it — what a great gentleman and gallant knight you 
are considered at the Court of our Queen. Ah, Sir Edward, 
you are indeed kind — : you so rich, noble, and brave, to 
leave all the grand and great people to follow our humble 
fortunes !" 

Amy accompanied these words with a look of such 
genuine admiration and gratitude that, in spite of himself, 
Sir Edward could not help feeling surprised and pleased. 

He had stood the bright glances of many a bright eye 
unflinchingly, among the rich and noble ladies about the 
Court, and yet the soft, confiding glance of little Amy 
made him blush like a school- boy. 

"Ah, Gideon 1" cried Amy, sepmg the servant, " come 


here ; I want you. Now, promise me that you will nevei 
leave sight of my brother or your master ; for if anything 
should happen to either of them, I should die of grief. 
You have been telling me what a great soldier you are 
and how you have fought for your master before ; see 
that you do your best now. See ! come here, and let me 
bind this bit of blue ribbon round your arm, as a memento 
of my words." 

Gideon approached, lumbering up to Amy like a young 
elephant. When she had fastened the piece of ribbon round 
his great brawny arm, he gave a subdued, grunting laugh 
of satisfaction. 

" Faith, master!" he said, " I look like a prize beast at 
one of our country fairs, with my blue ribbon. Never fear, 
Miss!" he said to Amy "There will be some bones 
broken ere any harm happens to the captain or my master, 
while Gideon Glossop is about." 

" Oh, Sir Edward !" suddenly exclaimed Amy, " I do 
wish I could see my brother. I would try and persuade 
him to let me come too. I cannot bear to let you and 
him go without me." 

"Amy, Amy, are you going mad?" said Sir Edward, 
smiling. '' You know we are going on horseback. We 
shall arrive in the evening, and be again with you ere 
noon to-morrow. So, little puss, don't trouble yourseii 
any more about us. Now I will bid you adieu." 

At these words Amy's gentle eyes filled with tears. 

" Adieu, Sir Edward, if you must really leave us. 01), 
dear ! I do so hope you will return safe !" 

Sir Edward took her hand — 

" What, you little silly, crying ! Come, don't be foolish- 

shall be back safe enough by noon, or, at most, a. tew 

after, to-morrow— safe enough and hungry^ii, 


I warrant ; so see that you have a rare dinner prepared 
for us on board." 

" Ah," said Amy, pouting, " that is just like you men — 
when we are full of sorrow and fear at parting, you think 
of nothing but the good dinner you will have when you 
come back." 

Sir Edward still held the litttie hand in his. Her face 
was turned pleadingly and sorrowfully towards him. Now 
and then a tear stole from under the long lashes and trickled 
down her fair cheek. Sir Edward could not resist the 
iemptation, but drew her gently towards him, andimprinted 
a kiss on her rich, pouting lips Amy made no resistance, 
but yielded herself to his embrace with the innocence of a 
child, and was happy 

The tears disappeared from her fair young face ; a bright 
flush came to her cheek, and her eyes sparkled with plea- 
sure. For one moment Sir Edward held her fair form 
pressed to his ; then she gently disengaged herself, and 
said, blushing — - 

" Oh, Sir Edward, how could you 1 " 

Sir Edward, once more pressing her hand, bade her 
adieu, and hastened towards the house of Don Jose. 

Amy followed his retreating figure with her eyes, till it 
was hid in the luxuriant foliage of the lane leading to the 



jw <m borer's time, Francis Drake, Sir Edv.ard Dudley, 
and Gideon, were on the route to Carthagena. 


Jupiter, a black slave, whom I 'on Jos& had ordered to 
accompany them, went first as made. 

lhey rode along the narrow path, cut through the vast 
forest by the hatchet, in Indian tile. 

First came Jupiter, the negro guide, mounted on a 
mule, then Sir Edward and Francis, and last of all, 
Gideon Glossop, all mounted on sure-footed Spanish 

As they pushed on through the vast forest, the trees 
and brushwood became denser, the gloom greater, and the 
silence more complete. 

Nothing could be seen but .grand, gloomy, great trees, 
rearing their tall heads heavenward, and almost excluding 
the light of the sun by their leafy luxuriance. Below, all 
about their vast trunks, the ground was clothed with 
brushwood and tropical vegetation, which, at times, 
encroached on the narrow pathway, and rendered it 
difficult for them to force their way. 

Occasionally the oppressive silence was broken by the 
voice of a bird, by the rustling of a serpent darting away 
in terror from their path, by the rush of a deer through 
the thicket, or the distant cry of the puma and wild cat. 
Buiied in thought, Sir Edward and Francis rode on in 

As for Gideon, he seldom talked at any time, and never 
ventured to speak in presence of his master, except when 

Suddenly they came to a stop. A large branch of a 
tree had been torn away by the wind, and lay directly 
across their path. While tne negro was employed in 
removing this obstruction, Sir Edward turned in his saddle, 
aii.:, aauressing Francis, »,ua- - 
" Are you tired, my friend i ' 


"Tired? no, indeed'." said Francis, gaily: "I have 
frequently journeyed a hundred miles at a stretch, on 
horseback. The only thing that troubles me is, our being 
compelled to travel so slowly through this impenetrable 

" True ; this is indeed a most abominably narrow path ; 
I cannot think it can be the only one to so important a 
town as Carthagena ! Jupiter, my friend," he said in 
Spanish to the negro, " are you sure this is the only bridle- 
path through the forest to Carthagena 1 Is there no other 
and broader way ? " 

The negro shook his head, and replied — 

"There is no other road, senor." 

"And how long shall we be before we arrive at Car- 
thagena 1 " 

"My master said five or six hours, did he not, senor?" 

"Yes, certainly , Don Jose told us we could accomplish 
the journey in six hours at the most. Jupiter, how much 
further have we to travel through the forest ? " 

"Don Jose" said five or six hours," again answered the 
negro, stolidly, 

"Pest!" said Sir Edward, impatiently. "You know 
the road, and have travelled it before , surely you know 
as well as your master where we are, and what distance we 
have to travel 1 " 

" Don Jose said we should arrive at Carthagena in six 
hours from the time we started," said the negro, in a tone 
meant to convey the idea that it was use!ess to question 

jiut sir Edward was not if> be "bus baulked, 
" Do you think, wo are " third of tn way ? " 
■• ¥es ; I should tlun* „-„ are a thiru f the way.'' 
replied the negro. 

Spanish treachery. 113 

* Do you think we are half-way ? " 

"Yes, half-way," said Jupiter, nodding his head, as 
much as to say, "Anything you please." 

"With these words, Jupiter spurred his horse and trot-tad 
on, evidently to avoid further questioning. 

Francis could not understand what was said, as they 
spoke in Spanish, but he saw by the cloud on Sir Edward's 
brow that he was not quite satisfied. 

" What were you saying 1 " asked Francis. 

"Oh! I was asking as to the distance to. Carthagena, 
but he could not, or would not, answer me." 

They had now arrived at a part of the forest where both 
the brushwood and the trees were less dense. The place 
at which they now were was a kind of open clearing, 
partly owing to nature, partly owing to the axe of the 
Spanish colonist. 

In the centre of this clearing was a spring of fresh 
water, which poured into a reservoir evidently made by 
the hands of man. 

Jupiter dismounted on arriving at this spring, and 
throwing the bridle on his mule's neck, proceeded to open 
a basket which he had hitherto carried before him in the 

" What are we doing now 1 ?" asked Sir Edward, in Spanish 
" Why do you dismount? Are we going to halt here?" 

" The horses aye thirsty and tired," he said ; " let them 
drink and rest. And I, too, am thirsty and tired, and 
hungry also. Don Jose bade me bring provisions for 
lunch ; so, my masters, if you are wise, you will dismount, 
and rest awhile." 

With these wor's, the negro brought forth from the 
basket some cold meat^ cold fowls, some bottles oi wine, 
iittvl u-uit 



Hardly knowing whether to be annoyed or pleased, the 
rwu travellers and Gideon alighted, and proceeded to dis- 
cuss the cold provisions. Somehow or other, a strange 
.feeding of disquietude pervaded both Francis and Sir 
Edward. The latter, especially, had been gloomy and 
discontented during the whole of the ride. Soon, how- 
ever, having satisfied their hunger with the good fare 
which the thoughtfulness of Don Jose had provided for 
them, they commenced to discuss the bottles of old Ca- 
nary wine, -and their spirits rose under the influence of 
the generous drink. 

"Sir Edward," said Francis, "do you think we shall 
be successful in our mission to Carthagena?" 

"Assuredly!" was the reply; "I cannot believe that 
all men are as base and rapacious as Don Placido. Besides, 
Don Jose's letter of introduction is most favourable ; and, 
after all he has done for us, we should be suspicious, in- 
deed, did we not put faith in his good-will towards use. 
Listen : I will translate the letter he has given me to the 
Captain-General into English : — 

"'To the Most Noble the Captain- General of New 

" ' Sen or, — Allow me to present to your favourable no- 
tice two English gentlemen, Sir Edward Dudley, a brave 
knight and soldier, and Captain Francis Drake, of the brig 
the Enterprise, in which they have voyaged from England 
for the purpose of trade. They are ignorant of the laws 
enforced in the Spanish dominions in the New World. 
Don Placido Ortigoza, taking advantage of their ignorance, 
seized the opportunity to basely and treacherously confis- 
cate the cargo of the vessel. Knowing that such an act 
towards inoffensive strangers must be odious to you and 



all honourable Spaniards, of whatsoever degree, I commend 

their case to your favourable consideration, and subscribe 

myself, most noble Captain-General, your devoted servant* 

" "Don Jose De Castanakes, 

" ' Captain of the Royal Spanish Frigate, 

the Santissima Trinidada."' 

While Sir Edward was reading this letter, and Francis 
listening in rapt attention, Gideon had risen, and appeared 
to gaze around and listen with great earnestness. 

" What are you looking and listening for, Gideon 1 " 
said Sir Edward, surprised at the strange behaviour of his 

Gideon suddenly darted into the bushes, and after an 
absence of a few minutes, as suddenly returned. 

"Well, Gideon, what is it 1 " asked his master again. 
" I was looking for the negro j I saw him but ten 
minutes since, along with the horses, at some fifty paces' 
distance ! " 

" Oh ! perhaps he is lying down asleep at the foot of 
one of the trees," said Sir Edward, carelessly. 

" And the horses — are they also lying down asleep ? for 
all four have disappeared !" 

"What!" said Sir Edward, starting up, "the horses 
gone ! nonsense ! " 

" Oh ! but it's no nonsense ! I have looked all round, 
and can see nothing of them. The black has taken the 
opportunity, when we were not looking, to make off with 

Sir Edward and Erancis now made the forest ling with 
their shouts, calling on Jupiter. But the only answer was 
the echo of the forest, or the scream of some wild bird 
etartled by the unwonted sound. 

116 THE DEMOBb ;>f the sea. 

" "Perdition ! " exclaimed Sir Edward, after some vain 
shouting. "It is too true; that black scoundrel has 
indeed decamped, taking the horses with him, and here 
we are alone in the middle of one of the vast New "World 

They remained in silence, listening intently for some 
time. Then they gazed in "blank dismay in each other's 

" Master," at last said Gideon, " you are wise, and can 
comprehend that which puzzles a poor devil like me. 
"What is the meaning of this 1 Why has the black left us, 
and taken the horses 1 " 
Sir Edward was silent. 

Erancis watched the expression of his countenance, and 
replied — 

" My good Gideon, you are right ; your master under- 
stands the meaning of this, and so, also, do I ! " 

Gideon remained in expectation of the mystery being 
explained to him. 

" The black has abandoned us," continued Erancis, in a 
solemn voice, "because his master, Don Jos6, is a trea- 
cherous Judas, who was deceiving us with soft words this 
morning, as the villain Don Placido deceived us yesterday. 
The negro has abandoned us because he was ordered so to 
do, and because the letter was but a snare and a trap, 
lie has left us and taken the horses, because it was never 
intended that we should reach Carthagena, but that we 
should wander about till we perish in these vast forests 1 " 
The young captain stopped, overcome by the dreadful 
thoughts which crowded upon him. 

" Great heavens ! what can have been the motive of this 
man in betraying us? Why did he instruct us to leave 
Santa Marta % He is in league with Don Placido, that is 


evident, for this morning he pretended to take our prut 
against him ! What new infamy do they design against 
us 1 for it must indeed be an infamy, since our absence is 
necessary for their designs." 

" Sir Edward," he cried to his friend, who remained 
buried in gloomy thought, " speak ! You have the same 
suspicions, the same thoughts as me — is it not so 1 Ou T 
ship, our crew, my brothers, and my poor little sister in 
the power of these ruffians, and we miles away in the 
depth of the forest ! " 

Sir Edward replied not ; he remained silent Pale, 
with haggard eye, he gazed vacantly into the gloomy 
depths of the forest. He seemed for the moment overcome, 
dismayed ; for a suspicion more dreadful than anything 
Francis imagined, had taken possession of his soul. 

Suddenly he aroused himself, and, with a bitter impre- 
cation, brought his hand forcibly down on the shoulder of 

" Come, my friend," he said, in a husky voice, " it is 
time for us to be moving. This is not the time to give 
way to despair. Whatever Don Jose designed in sepa- 
rating us from our friends, it is for us to frustrate his 
design ; and, by heavens, we will do so, or my name is 
not Sir Edward Dudley ! We have been three hours in 
coming here ; we will be back in half the time. The 
horses are gone ; no matter — we will hasten back faster 
than they could carry us. Come — come, let us be moving. 
Your brothers, your sailors, your sister, are perhaps at this 
Very moment calling to us for aid." 

So saying, Sir Edward hurried from the open space 
towards the forest, followed by Francis and Gideon. 

But an unforeseen obstacle presented itself. There 
were several other paths leading from the clearing besides 


the one by which they had entered. While they were 
waiting in uncertainty as to which route to take, Gideon, 
who had been closely examining the ground, gave a cry of 

" This way, my masters," he cried, "this way! This 
is the path by which we entered. See ! here are the marks 
of the horses' hoofs." 

Then they all hastened down the path which Gideon 
indicated, and once again plunged into the gloomy depths 
of the forest. 

" If the negro does not urge the horses any faster than 
when we before came this route, we shall soon catch him 
up, at the pace we are going," said Francis. 

" I fear not," said Sir Edward ; " it is reasonable to 
suppose that, once beyond earshot, the black would press 
on at full speed." 

They were now going at a long, swinging trot, which 
they kept up for half an hour, when they came to two 

This rendered it necessary for them to pause and choose 

After a little search, they again succeeded in finding the 
hoof-marks, and dashed on as before. 

They had not gone many hundred yards, when a clap of 
thunder and the rapidly increasing gloom warned them of 
mi approaching storm. 

They had barely time to shelter themselves in an im- 
mense hollow tree, when the sluice-gates of the heavens 
were opened, and the rain descended in torrents. The 
lightning flashed, the thunder roared, the wind howled and 
whistled among the forest-trees, the rain came down as it 
never does elsewhere than in the tropics. 

But if the storm was terrible while it lasted, this was 


not long. In about twenty minutes it was over, and they 
emerged from their shelter, and again made the best of 
their way onwards. 

They knew not, at the time, of the misfortune caused to 
them by the deluging rain ; but at their next halt in doubt 
as to the road, it was painfully forced upon them. On 
searching, as before, for the hoof-marks of the horses, they 
saw at once that they were completely and entirely effaced 
by the rain. 

They gazed at each other for a moment, in dismay. 

There were three paths, and they knew not which to 
take. At last Sir Edward spoke — 

" Gideon," he said to his servant, " climb one of those 
big trees." 

Gideon, without a word, obeyed ; but Francis asked in 
surprise, " To what advantage 1 We are here in a species 
of valley, consequently the view will be bounded by the 

" My friend," said Sir Edward, "you observe, even in 
the dense obscurity of the forest, that now the storm has 
passed, the sun is shining." 

'• True ; and then?" 

" Well, although we can perceive, by looking upwards 
at the sky, that the sun is out, we cannot tell, from the 
denseness of the forest, in what direction it is. Gideon, 
when he shall have attained the top of one of those gigantic 
trees, will be able to see. It is now evening, and the sun 
is in the west. We came from the east, consequently, if 
we take that path which will leave the sun at our backs, 
we shall be right." 

" Ah ! Sir Edward, you are indeed wise. Neither I 
nor Gideon would ever have thought of that, I feel sure." 

" Gideon," said Sir Edward. " can you see the sun?" 


" No , but I ean see by the sunlight in the mountains 
in which direction it is." 

" Point it out" 

Gideon did so. 

" Good," said Sir Edward, indicating one of tha three 
paths ; "this, then, must be our road." 

Gideon hastened to descend the tree, and they resumed 
their route at the same pace as before. 

Suddenly Gideon halted, and gave a cry of astonish- 

" "What is the matter ? " said Sir Edward and Francis 

" Why, as we run along the path, I have several times 
thought that I saw animals of some kind running also in 
the forest, but always in the same direction as ourselves." 

They all gazed anxiously into the forest, but could dis- 
cover nothing. 

"Fancy, Gideon, fancy," said his master , "your scujcs 
deceived you." 

Thoy resumed their course, Gideon grrnting out — 

" No fancy — no fancy ; whatevor they were, I saw 

All now kept their eyes about them. 

Several times both Sir Edward and Francis thought 
they could discern moving figures in the forest ; and, as 
Gideon had said, these figures always seemed to be going 
in the same direction as themselves. 

This time it was Sir Edward who stopped, and ex- 
claimed — 

" By Heavens ! Gideon was right ; there are figures of 
some kind continually keeping pace with us. Be they 
shadows, phantoms, or what not, my senses cannot have 
deceived me — I saw them 1* 


All three gazed anxiously into the forest 

Suddenly Francis seized Sir Edward's arm, and pointed 
to a large tree, distant about a hundred yards. 

They saw crouched at the foot of this tree a figure. 

On observing that he was seen, the figure rose and ad- 
vanced towards them. Two other figures came from 
behind the tree and followed the first. 

They were Indians. As they approached, the travellers 
gazed in wonder, not unmixed with alarm, at their strange 

They were naked to the waist, around which was bound 
a short tunic of buffalo hide, ornamented with feathers, 
beads, and locks of hair, which they afterwards learned 
were scalps. 

Fantastic head-dresses of plumes of feathers, and buffalo 
hide moccassins, completed their attire. 

Their bodies and even faces were tattooed all over, so 
that hardly a spot could be found of the original tawny 

They carried for weapons bows, arrows, tomahawks, and 

The three travellers closed up together in uneasiness at 
the approach of these savages. They knew not whether 
their intentions were hostile or otherwise. 

Si'? Edward and Francis looked to their pistols, while 
Gideon, with his pocket-knife, cut a large knobbed branch 
from a neighbouring tree, to serve, if need be, for a club. 

Their attention was so engrossed by the approach of the 
three savages whom they had first discovered, that it was 
some time ere they knew that three others were approach- 
ing from the other side. 

Sir Edward Dudley recognized, as they approached, the 


Indian who the day before had given him the branch of 
the Abanijo tree, with the inscription. 

jSTot knowing whether they came in friendship or enmity, 
he nevertheless thought that he might obtain a solution of 
the mystery, and at the same time be directed on the right 
road to Santa Marta. 

Accordingly he advanced towards them, and holding up 
his hand as a signal for them to halt, said — 

" I see among my brothers a warrior whom I know, for 
I have seen and spoken to him yesterday at Santa Marta, 
when he presented me with the branch of an Abanijo tree, 
on which was a slip of paper with an inscription. I offer 
him my hand in friendship." 

Then he waited for a reply. 

" What does the pale-face warrior say 1 " said one of the 
Indians. " The pale-face must speak to us in the language 
which the Spaniards have taught us, if he would be under- 

" Good ; my brother is right," said Sir Edward, in 
Spanish; "but I thought that the Indian warrior knew 
the English tongue, for yesterday he spoke to me in 
English. My brothers, we are lost in this forest. Will 
the red-skin warriors guide us to Santa Marta? " 

The Indians muttered to each other for a minute ; then 
he who had before spoken said — 

" The warriors whom the pale-faces now see before 
t%m belong to the most numerous tribe of the Otta- 
mankos. The Spaniards are the enemies of the Otta- 
mankos ; they have kept them in servitude, they have 
ravished their young maidens, and have ravaged their 
forests and hunting-grounds. The Ottamanko warriors, 
therefore, have sworn eternal enmity to the Spaniards." 


" I can conceive that my brothers hate the Spaniards ; 
but we also hate and are enemies to the Spaniards. There- 
fore, without breaking their words, the Ottamanko war- 
riors can conduct us to Santa Marta." 

The Indians remained silent, as if in reflection. 

" Why is it, then, if the pale-faces are not Spaniards) 
but hate the Spaniai ds as we do, that they are in a country 
of which the Spaniards claim to be masters % Whence 
come my brothers, and what do they here ? " 

" It is too long a tale to be now told," said Sir Edward, 
" the evening is far advanced. Answer, yes or no. Will 
one of the red-skin warriors conduct the pale-faces to Santa 
Marta for a suitable reward 1 Answer quickly, yes or no, 
for we have no time to lose." 

The three Indians who had appeared from the forest on 
the other side now joined their friends, and they all con- 
versed together in a low voice. 

At the last words of Sir Edward, pronounced in an 
imperious and commanding tone, the Indians frowned, and 
looked menacingly towards the three white men. The 
Indians still kept muttering together in their own tongue, 
casting, ever and anon, threatening glances on the white 

" Of what use to stay here?" said Francis, impatiently. 
"If they will not serve us as guides, they will not, that is 
all, and we must endeavour to find our own way, that is 
all. Come!" 

"Not so fast, my dear Erancis!" said Sir Edward. 
"Perhaps we shall have more trouble with these savages 
than you think. I like not their looks and gestures." 

"Do you suppose, then, they will dispute our passage?" 

"1 know not. At all events, it is best to be pre- 


So saying, Sir Edward examined his pistols, which he 
carefully primed. 

The Indians, who watched their every motion, observed 

Suddenly they ceased muttering together, and dividing 
themselves into two parties, three took up a position in 
the path before the travellers, three behind, each at the 
distance of about ten paces from them. The one who 
had before spoken now advanced to Sir Edward, and 
said — 

The Ottamanko warriors will conduct the pale-faces to 
Santa Marta. Come !" 

" My brothers are kind," said Sir Edward ; "but where- 
fore have they divided themselves ? — why do they not all 
march together V 

" Have we not told our brothers that we are at enmity 
with the Spaniards? Are tha pale-faces children, that 
they understand not that it is to guard against a sudden 
attack that we march thus 1 " 

"Ah," said Sir Edward, ironically, "it is, then, for fear 
of the Spaniards that the Ottamankos march in order of 
battle, with the pale-faces between, as prisoners. I thank 
my red-skin brothers, but we want not such precautions. 
Either our brothers will march altogether in front of us, 
or we will find our way without their aid. " 

A black, threatening look from the Indian followed these 
words, which proved to the red-skin that the ruse which 
he thought so cunning was unsuccessful. 

"The Creeping Snake is a great chief," said the Indian 
craftily. "Why, then, does my white brother suspect 

" I suspect nothing," said Sir Edward, with an irony he 
did not attempt to conceal; "but I and my companions 


have our own customs. One of these customs is, when on 
the march never to let any person walk behind us.'' 

"Good!" said the Creeping Snake, with apparent frank- 
ness. " Since it is my brother's wish, the Indian warriors 
will march in front, all together." 

" Good 1" said Sir Edward, with a smile of triumph. 
The Creeping Snake made a sign to the three savager 
behind, and they hastened to join him. Then, without 
appearing to take any further notice, they proceeded to 
lead the way, at a good pace. 

" We cannot remain here, and we cannot go back," said 
Sir Edward in a low voice to Francis ; " but I much mis- 
trust these Indians. Either they are conducting us in good 
faith to Santa Marta, which I very much doubt, or they 
have some infernal design, some treachery, which, in due 
time, will develope itself. In any case, we must push on, 
and keep on our guard." 

" No, we cannot rest here," replied Francis. " As it is, 
we have wasted too much time. God knows what may 
not have happened at Santa Marta during our absence ! 
You think that, friends or enemies,, we ought to follow 
these Indians?" 

""We cannot do otherwise. If they mean treachery 
they could exercise it as well if we remained as if we 
pushed on. Gideon," said Sir Edward to his servant, 
" what think you of these red-skins — do they mean mis- 

" Do not trouble yourself about them, master. I only 
hope one thing, and that is, that they will make haste if 
they have any treachery in view ; the sooner the better, 
and the sooner we shall arrive at Santa Marta." 

"How so, Gideon?" 

" How so, master ? Why, Burely we need have no fear 


of six naked savages like that 1 Pcste! I would take them 
all myself!" 

Sir Edward, in spite of the critical nature of their 
position, coidd not help smiling at the gasconade of his 
servant. Gideon was walking first ; Francis and Sir 
Edward followed, keeping their hands on their pistol? 
and watching every motion of their guides. 

They marched steadily on, the Indians giving no sign of 
i n tended treachery. They walked in front, one before the 
other, never turning their heads to the right or leit, o* 
appearing to take the least notice of the white men. 

Onwards they tramped, with a long, uniform, swinging 
stride. Not a sound, save the occasional breaking of a 
twig under foot, or the rustling of the brushwood over- 
hanging the path, broke the stillness of the forest. 

As they marched on, the road became wider and less 
tortuous. Presently they arrived at a clump of magnificent 
old cedar trees, whose ancient branches, spreading from 
side to side, completely overshadowed them. 

Suddenly, at a gesture from the Creeping Snake, the 
Indians halted, and ranged themselves around him in the 
path, thus effectually barring the path of the white men. 

"What is the meaning of this? — why do we halt!" 
asked Sir Edward, impatiently. 

" No matter," grunted the Indian. 

" Are my brothers fatigued?" 

•'No," again replied the Indian, laconically. 

" Why, then, do we halt 1 " said Sir Edward, angrily. 
" My brothers trifle with us ; but we are not children!" 

" We halt," said the Creeping Snake, in a loud and ter- 
rible voice, " because it is under the shadow of these sacred 
trees that the white men must die !" 

Scarcely were the words out of the Ottamanko chief's 


fnouth, tlian he threw himself, with one of his warriors, on 
Sir Edward. Two others attacked Francis, and the other 
two fell on Gideon simultaneously. 

The order of attack was well arranged ; two against 
one — terrible odds, certainly ! Certain of success, by 
reason of their superiority in numbers, they had disdained 
to commence the combat, as was their wont, by dis- 
charging their arrows, but attacked at once with the 
terrible tomahawk. 

But the savages did not know that among the pale- 
faces there was so redoubtable a warrior as Gideon, who 
had declared that he could take all six himself— powerful 
words, certainly ; but even big words lose the nature of a 
vaunt when they are followed by valorous deeds. 

At the instant that the two Indians dashed towards 
him with uplifted tomahawk, Gideon, with an agility not 
to be expected from his unwieldy form, darted on one side 
and the tomahawk descended harmlessly. 

The first Indian slightly lost his balance, from the force 
which he had put into the blow. He stumbled forward, 
and the tomahawk struck the ground violently before 

Ere he could recover himself ', the terrible club of the big 
Comishman descended, crash, on the back of his neck, 
fracturing the spine. The blood gushed from his nose and 
mouth, and rolling over on his back, he gave a few gasps, 
and was dead. 

The other, seeing the fate of his companion, was more 
cautious to attack the formidable white warrior ; but 
Gideon gave him no time to think Whisking his terriblo 
club round his head, and giving a shout to which their 
own war-whoops were but as babies' cries, he attacked the 


The latter, astonished and confounded at the fury of the 
attack, and the enormous strength with which Gideon 
wielded the tree branch, retreated, darted on one side, and 
strove to avoid his terrible enemy by every means in his 
power. All in vain ; Gideon would not be denied. He 
foamed with rage, and, roaring like a wild beast, kept 
following the Indian up, making bounds of several feet at 
a time. The savage disdained to fly, but kept retreating 
and watching an opportunity to use his tomahawk. 

At last he saw one. Gideon aimed a terrible blow at 
him, which the Indian avoided by adroitly leaping back. 
Then the savage ran in, and struck at the Cornishman's 
head with his tomahawk. The latter held up his arm to 
parry the blow. The tomahawk buried itself in the tough 
muscle, just below the elbow 

Ere the blow could be repeated, Gideon had him round 
the body, in the same grip which Bully Dick, at Kams- 
gate, found so unpleasant. For one moment they struggled 
together — for the Indian was a strong, wiry, active 
man — then over he went, up went his heels, and down 
went his head, and he was flung to a distance of some 

With a cry of rage and pain, he was hastily rising to 
renew the attack, when the terrible club of the Cornish- 
man again came into play. Crash ! it came down on the 
feather-adorned head of the savage. The skull broke 
under the terrible blow, like an egg-shell. Thump, 
thump ! it came on the poor wretch s ribs, which were 
crushed and broken like trellis-work under a crowbar. 

Gideon, furious with the pain of his wound, kept 
pounding away at the poor wretch's body, as he writhed 
in his last agony, till the Indian was nothing but a lump 
of bruised a 1 1 bleeding flesh. A cry from his master is- 


terrupted his amiable amusement. Let us see how the 
battle fared im this direction. 

Francis received the Indian who first attacked him by a 
pistol-shot. This took effect full in his breast, and the savage 
fell backwards with a groan. Having thus put one of his 
enemies lwrs de combat, he threw himself furiously on the 
other. This latter was the youngest and weakest of the 
warriors, and although he fought with desperate bravery, 
the long sword of Francis reached him when his own 
tomahawk was useless. 

Meanwhile Sir Edward Dudley was not so fortunate. 
He, too, at the first attack discharged his pistol, but it 
only wounded the savage in the shoulder. He had placed 
his back to a tree, and was defending himself desperately 
against the tomahawks of the two Indians with his sword. 

The contest was an unequal one, and the Englishman, 
despite of all his skill, was hard pressei 1 .. At last, he 
succeeded in wounding one of his assailants. This gave 
him an opportunity of taking a more favourable position. 
Accordingly, he placed his back against a tree, and re- 
newed the conflict. 

Suddenly, however, one of the Indians ceased attacking 
with the tomahawk, and rapidly unslinging his bow, pro- 
ceeded to fit an arrow to the string. 

It was this action which caused Sir Edward to cry out, 
" Gideon, help !" for he saw at once that, while one kept 
him employed with his tomahawk, the other could kill 
him at Ms ease with an arrow. On hearing the cry, 
Gideon desisted from his pleasant occupation of pum- 
melling the dead, and hastened to the assistance of the 

" Coming, master, coming !" said Gideon, at the same 
time giving a shout that made the Indian start. 



The latter discharged one arrow, which whizzed close by 
Sir Edward's ear, burying itself in the tree, and then, 
throwing down the bow, again attacked him furiously with 
the tomahawk. 

In a second Gideon was upon him. The savage saw 
him coming, and turned ; but he turned too late, for, 
misjudging the agility of the clumsy-looking Cornishman, 
the latter was upon him ere he could aim a blow at him. 
with his tomahawk. In an instant the great muscular 
arms of Gideon were around him — one arm was around 
his neck, while the other encircled his body at the waist. 

Sir Edward, profiting by the opportunity, dashed for- 
ward, and attacked the other savage in turn. He was a 
skilful swordsman, and after one or two passes his long 
sword-blade went hissing through the naked body of the 
Indian, and passed out at the back. The red-skin dropped 
his weapon, and with a loud cry fell backwards, and lay 
writhing in horrible agony, for Sir Edward's sword had 
passed between his ribs, and through his lungs. 

Meanwhile, the other was but a child in the grip of the 
Herculean Gideon. This latter had shifted his hold, and 
now held the unfortunate in a grip of iron by the throat 
with both hands. The Indian's tongue protruded, and his 
eyes seemed about to start from their sockets. He grew 
black in the face, and struggled fearfully, making horrible 
grimaces, as Gideon's terrible grasp grew yet tighter and 

At this moment Francis had closed on his antagonist, 
and had succeeded in throwing him to the ground. Then 
he drew his poniard, and plunged it up to the hilt in his 
throat. He drew it forth, and the life-blood gushing from 
the deadly wound, poured in torrents over the naked body 
of the defeated red-skin. 



Francis arose, and gazed around him. With that last 
■tab the strength of the Indian faded away, and his eyes 
began to glaze in death. 

Meanwhile, the redskin whom Gideon had, bulldog-like, 
by the throat (no other than the chief, the Creeping Snake 
himself) was in a bad way. A very short time more of 
that Herculean grip, and all would have been over with 
the Ottamanko chief. Fortunately for the poor wretch, 
however, Sir Edward Dudley took pity on him, and said 
to Gideon — 

" Enough Let him go ; he is past injuring us any 

Gideon reluctantly relinquished his prey, who fell to the 
ground in a state of insensibility. 

A silence, broken only by the puffing and snorting 01 
G eon after his great exertions, and an occasional groan 
from the dying warrior whom Sir Edward had run through 
the body, succeeded. Then that, too, ceased ; and Gideon, 
recovering his wind, gazed round in gloomy satisfaction at 
the scene of carnage. 

It was, indeed, a fearful sight. In place of six strong, 
athletic warriors, who, five minutes before, bounded towards 
them with uplifted tomahawks, there were now five ghastl v 
corpses, and one half-throttled wretch more dead than 

" Well, master, did I do my part 1 Didn't I tell you ] 
could take all six of these naked vagabonds myself?" 
think I've given two of them what it will take them some 
time to get over." 

So saying, Gideon pointed to the horribly bruised and 
mutilated remains of the two who had met their deaths by 
his club. 


"Horrible, horrible!" said Francis, turning away hia 
head from the dreadful sight. 

Gideon chuckled grimly, and giving one of the dead 
bodies a kick, thus apostrophized it : — 

" Ah, you varmin, you — you tawny, ugly ape ! You 
thought to get the best of it by double-backing ! Two to 
one, eh ] Perhaps you thought we were Spaniards. Faugh ! 
you ugly, naked brute, I'd take a field-full of the likes of 
you myself!" 

It was evident that Gideon's blood was up. His was 
one of those slow, slothful dispositions, which, when once 
aroused, are very fiends incarnate in their rage and hate. 

Even the death of his antogonists did not seem to 
appease his rage, for, with a snort and a grunt, he bestowed 
another kick on the dead body, apparently disappointed 
that he could discover no signs of life. 

" Gideon," said his master sternly, " respect the dead 
They attacked us treacherously, and have met their just 
doom. Throw some water in the face of this one you 
would have choked, and see if you can revive him." 

Gideon sullenly obeyed, but looked as if he would ha^e 
much preferred to have completed his work, and sent the 
red-skin to join his companions. 

Francis gazed around him in undisguised horror. The 
way in which he had disposed of his two antagonists 
sufficiently proved that he was no coward ; but he miglrt 
well be excused for feeling faint and sick at the scene 
This was his baptism in blood ; and now that the fierce 
excitement of the battle was over, a reaction set in, and he 
regarded almost with remorse his own share in the car- 

The glaring, sightless eyes, dreadfully \irhig up to 


heaven — the blood-stained, mutilated forms of the red- 
men produced on him an impression which he nevsr for- 
got, even in after years, when scores fell by his hand, and 
hundreds by his orders. 

The Creeping Snake now began to come to his senses. 
* Is he coming round, Gideon, or have you sent him to 
his long home by that grip of yours V 

" No such luck," muttered Gideon. " The red vaga- 
bond is coming round fast enough. Here, wake up, you 
naked brute ! " said the Cornishman, giving him no gentle 
kick ; " my master wants to speak to you." 

The red-skin opened his eyes, and, groaning deeply, 
raised himself on his elbow. 

" Give him water to drink," said Sir Edward. " Poor 
devil ! I can't help pitying him, although he brought it on 
himself by his treacherous attempt." 

Gideon obeyed, and the Indian drank deeply from 
Gideon's keg, rewarding him, however, for the good offi' 
with a scowl of hatred instead of thanks. 

Sir Edward marked it, and said, half-admiringly, t*. 
Francis — 

" See that red-skin's look at Gideon ! What a subject 
for a painter ! Defeated, wounded, half-choked, his five 
warriors slain, he yet gazes fiercely on his late antagonist, 
as if he would like to renew the conflict. His spirit, 
treacherous as it is, is still unconquered." 
- The Creeping Snake was now sufficiently recovered to 

" Give me your handkerchiefs, gentlemen. This naked 
savage is not to be trusted, by his looks ; so we will just 
bind him, to make all safe." 

There was no denying the common sense of this, so 
Gideon bound the captive warrior's arms securely ; then, 


with assistance, he rose to his feet, and gazed round at the 

There lay his five warriors, all dead— gone to their 

iappy hunting-grounds. He gazed sorrowfully on them 

one by one, and then, turning his eyes on his victors, an 

expression of malignant ferocity and hate came on his 

features, which would well have become a fiend. 

" Let us leave this horrible, this frightful scene ! " said 
Francis, who could not overcome his feelings. 

" Frightful ! " grunted Gideon , " it seems to me it 
would have been a good deal more frightful if it had been 
ourselves instead of these naked brutes who lie on the 

" Come, let us leave this," said Sir Edward. " Gideon, 
bring on your prisoner; I want to ask him some ques- 
tions. " 

" Come on, you bare-legged brute ! " said the Cornish- 
man, dragging him on. " My master wants to ask you 
some questions ; so mind you answer them truly, or it will 
be the worse for you ! " 

Then, seeing that his prisoner did not understand a word 
he said, he marched him on in silence, until, at a signal 
from his master, they stopped under a wide-spreading 
cedar-tree. Gideon brought the chief up before Sir Edward, 
who regarded him fixedly. 

" The red- skin warrior now sees the result of his trea- 
cherous attempt on his white brothers," said Sir Edward, 
in Spanish. 

" The Creeping Snake is a prisoner ; his warriors are 
dead — good ! The pale-faoes are strong ; it is their time 

" Strong and generous. It depends on the Creeping 
Snake himself whether he will be free or not." 


The Indian warrior looked incredulous. 

" And what do the pale-faces wish the Creeping Snake 
to do V he asked. 

" To guide us where you promised to guide us — to Santa 
Marta ; that is all." 

The Indian bowed his head. 

" Good ! " he said ; " the pale-faces shall be in the 
Spanish town in less than two hours." 

'• But rememher this," said Sir Edward, reloading his 
pistols — " I know not whether the road which you have 
already brought us is the right one, nor does it matter ; 
but this you can rely on — if" we are not in Santa Marta in 
three hours from this, I will kill you — shoot you like a 

The Creeping Snake again bowed his head. 

" Before the sun sets," he said, " the pale-faces shall be 
in Santa'Marta. Come — let us march ; for it is yet far to 
go to the town of the Spaniards." 

" Forward, then," said Sir Edward; "and, once again, 
let me caution you, red-skin, against a fresh attempt at 
treachery. Gideon, see to your prisoner." 

" Master, if he looses his arms from the bonds, he must 
be the very devil. And even then, 'twould be of little 
use to him ; for his brains should be scattered abroad 
before he could move a yard." 

They marched on in silence along the narrow path which 
the Indian indicated. Neither Francis nor Sir Edward re- 
membered the road; indeed, they felt certain it was not 
the one they had travelled in the morning. 

As the evening closed in, and the sun approached the 
horizon, their uneasiness increased. Still, their guide 
strode confidently on in front, by the side of Gideon, who 
uever for a moment took his eye from him. 


For another half-hour they kept on, and still no signs 
of their issuing from the gloomy forest. 

The sun wa.3 now on the point of setting, and in an- 
other half-hour they would be in darkness ; for in the 
tropics there is little or no twilight. 

Sir Edward gave the word to halt, and striding up to 
the Indian, said sternly — 

" The Indian warrior has lied again to the white man. 
It is night, and we are not yet at Santa Marta." 

The Creeping Snake replied calmly — 

" The pale-faces have ears— let them listen." 

They did so, and could distinguish a low, faint murmur. 

" Ah ! " eried Francis, gladly recognizing the familiar 
sound ; " it is the sea — we are close to the coast ! " 

" Forward ! " said Sir Edward, setting the example. 
" Time is precious ; we know not what may be happening 
even at this moment." 

In a quarter of an hour more they emerged from the 
forest, and found themselves on a rising ground overlook- 
ing the town of Santa Marta. 

" We need not keep this man any longer," said Sir 
Edward. " We promised him his liberty, let him have it. 
Gideon, unloose his bonds." 

The Indian smiled disdainfully as the Cornishman ap- 
proached to unbind him. 

This latter found, to his astonishment, that his prisoner 
had saved him the trouble ; for, with wonderful cunning, 
he had freed himself from all the artfully-contrived and 
securely -knotted bonds of Gideon. 

The latter gave vent to an expression of astonishment. 

The Indian smiled contemptuously, and said — 

" The Creeping Snake is a great chief. The white man 


must get stronger bonds than tkose of cotton and leather 
to bind him! : ' 

Both Sir Edward and Francis looked with surprise, 
mingled with admiration, at this proof of the consummate 
address of the red man. Scarcely, however, had the Indian 
given expression to his boast, than Gideon, who was ill- 
pleased at being thus outwitted, suddenly seized him by 
the arm, saying — 

" Now, red-skin ! you got free from my handkerchiefs 
and straps, it is true. I will give you an English pound 
if you get loose from my hand." 

With these words, he exerted all his enormous strength, 
and compressed the arm of the Indian with terrible force. 
The nails absolutely buried themselves in the flesh. Still, 
although the pain must have been intense, the Creeping 
Snake never allowed a muscle of his face even to quiver. 

When Gideon removed his hand, the flesh beneath it 
was bruised and blackened by the terrible force of the 
grasp, and where the nails had come in contact with the 
the skin, several drops of blood trickled forth. 

" Gideon," said Sir Edward, angrily, " don't torture 
the man ; he has performed his promise — let him go in 

Then Sir Edward, addressing the Ottamanko chief, 
said — 

" The red-skin warrior had no need to have freed him- 
self from his bonds — the white man always keeps his 
word. The Creeping Snake is free ; let him go to his 

The savage darted off, throwing one last look of hatred 
and defiance on the three, ere he disappeared. 

They looked after him for a moment ; then Sir Edward 
started forward, saying — 


" Come ! let us haste to the town ; 1 have a gloomy 
foreboding of evil." 

Followed by Francis and Gideon, he strode rapidly on, 
and was soon in the outskirts of the town. 



Before leaving for Carthagena, Francis had left word 
with his brothers, Will and Michael, to lay in water and 
provisions, and be in every way prepared to sail imme- 
diately on his return. 

Will and Michael, who were on board the brig, ordered 
the boat to be brought round to the gangway, to put them 
on shore, in order that they might procure the provisions 
necessary. Amy and Harry begged so hard to be allowed 
to accompany them, if only for an hour, that Will at last 
consented, and in a few minutes the three brothers and 
Amy were standing on the quay. 

"Come, Harry, come !" said Amy, joyfully. "We will 
stroll about among the beautiful trees and flowers, while 
Will and Michael go into the town." 

"Be sure, little one," said Will, "that you do not 
wander far, and be back here in an hour and a half at the 
latest. If we have not yet arrived, wait for us ; we will 
return as soon as possible." 

Amy promised compliance, and she and Harry then 
strolled off into the adjoining wood. 

"What o'clock is it now, Harry 1 " she asked. 

"Two o'clock struck as we left the brig. But why do 
you ask t " 


" Because, if it is not far to Carthagena, it is possible 
that Francis will soon return." 

" But you heard him say that they would not be back 
before night ? " 

" It is true," she replied, sighing ; " but perhaps they 
may return sooner than they thought." 

" Well, and what then ? " 

" Why, suppose we go a little way to meet them ] " 

" Let us, then, call back Will, and tell him." 

" No," said Amy, " he is so cross, and will only scold. 
Besides, we will only go a little way," 

Harry yielded to his sister, and, laughing and chatting, 
they strolled on along the path through the forest taken 
by Francis and Sir Edward some short time previously. 
They stopped ever and anon to gather a flower or to listen 
to the song of a bird, Amy prattling on all the while with 
childish glee and innocence. 

Suddenly Amy gave a little cry, and halted. 

" What is the matter, sister 1 " asked Harry. 

"Nothing," replied Amy, timidly, and trembling as she 

" Ah, you little coward ! you are afraid of seeing again 
one of those terrible monsters we encountered in Don 
Jose's garden." 

" And you, Harry — did you feel quite at your ease when 
the hideous great reptile was rolling its eyes and gaping 
its mouth at us?" 

" AVell, to own the truth," said Harry, laughing, " I did 
not feel quite comfortable. But Amy — why, I declare you 
are quite pale, and are trembling ! Come, let us return, 
as you are such a little coward." 

" JSTo, no," said Amy, gazing timidly around, " let us go 
on. I am not frightened— only — only -" 


" Only what ? " 

"Only I thought I heard something rustling in the 
brushwood. It was only fancy, I suppose " 

Amy never completed the sentence. A shriek burst 
from her lips, and she turned to fly. Four negroes sud- 
denly appeared on the right and the left, and before they 
had time even to think of escape, they were seized and 

Harry struggled ; but what was his strength, in com- 
parison with that of the two gigantic blacks in whose 
hands he found himself? As for Amy, poor child, she 
fainted, and they had no further trouble with her. 

The first part of their nefarious enterprize having been 
successfully accomplished, the negroes proceeded to carry it 
out. Two of them raised Harry in their arms, while the 
other two bore Amy's light and insensible form. They 
made their way straight through the forest until they came 
to a footpath, which Harry recognized as that leading to 
Don Jose's- mansion. In a very short time they were 
being carried through the garden in which Amy had 
gathered the bouquet, anu towards the house of Don 

" What is the meaning of this ? " thought Harry. 
" Surely it cannot be Don Jose who has caused us to be 
carried here, for he is our friend ; neither I nor Amy have 
injured him or given him offence. No ; Don Jose, who 
received us so kindly yesterday, and who to-day came so 
nobly to the assistance of Francis, cannot be our enemy ! " 

Poor Harry ! innocent of the world, he did not for a 
moment guess at the odious project, for the furtherance of 
which he and his sister had been thus rudely kidnapped. 

While Harry was thus wondering as to the meaning of 
this, the negroes had arrived at the house. They halted 


hero, without, however, laying down their burden. Sud- 
denly Don Jose himself appeared on the balcony, and 
called to one of the negroes who carried Harry. They 
placed him on his feet, and the negro hastened within to 
his master. Harry could not hear what Don Jose said, 
but he gathered that he was giving orders of some sort. 

The negro now returned, and again raising their burden, 
they carried him towards a small shed to the right of the 
house. Although he could not cry out, yet he could see 
all that passed. He realized the fact that he was to be 
separated from his sister. In vain he struggled, and at 
tempted to force the gag from his mouth ; his strength 
was as that of an infant, in comparison with that of the 
negroes who bore him. For one instant, he succeeded in 
sufficiently tearing the handkerchief from his mouth to 
cry out, but the next moment it was replaced and fastened 
more securely than ever. 

" Ah, ah ! " said Don Jose, mockingly, from the bal- 
cony, "the young bantam is rebellious, is he 1 ? See to 
him, Brutus — Scipio ! A hundred lashes apiece, if you 
let him escape ! " 

Then Don Jose entered the house, humming an air. 

Meanwhile, the two negroes had carried the young girl 
within, and placed her on a couch in a small parlour or 
boudoir at the back of the house and looking out on the 
sea. There was only one window to this room, and this 
w>V at such a distance from the ground as not to be 
accessible. It was elegantly, even luxuriously furnished 
and opened into another and larger room by a small door 
Th is arge room, again, led into another, and this lattel 
opened on to the balcony on which Don Jose' appeared 
The three rooms were thus en suite. 

The negroes having deposited the inanimate form of 


the young girl on the couch, waited for their master's 

Don Jose strode into the room, and with a glance of 
fierce satisfaction at poor Amy on the couch, made a sign 
for the two slaves to retire. He regarded the insensible 
form of the young creature before him in silence for some 
time ; then he proceeded to sprinkle her temples with 
water. This not reviving her, he cut with his poniard 
the laces of her corsage, and threw open her dress. Then 
he produced a small flask containing a powerful cordial, 
and poured a few drops between her lips. After a little 
time, Amy gave a deep breath, and slowly opened her 

" Where am II" she murmured faintly. 

" With a friend," replied Don Jose, in English. 

Amy, who was now free from her bonds, raised herself 
on her elbow, and gazed at the speaker. 

" Why have they brought me here 1 — where is my bro- 
ther — where is Harry 1 " she cried. 

Then she again fell back, for she was too feeble to rise 

" There, there," said Don Jose, in honeyed accents, 
" do not torment yourself, little one. Your brother is in 
no danger ; you shall see him again soon." 

"But I want to see him now, this moment," munnurecl 
Amy, faintly. 

"All in good time, my little angel, all in good time , 
we will talk of that by-and-by." 

" Why am I here, sir 1 Why have you brought m e 
here 1 Who are you ] I do not know you." 

" You do not know me ! What, my little angel, you 
are joking, surely. You do not know me, Don Jose de 
Castenares, who had the honour to enteitain you at lunch 


yesterday with your brothers ! You do not know itv. 
when it was I who gave the Captain Francis Drake a letter 
of introduction to the Captain-General at Carthagena, in 
order that he might obtain reparation from Don Placido ; 
and you say you do not know me ! Really, young lad}-, 
that is too bad. Come, don't stare at me so, with your 
great blue eyes, as if you were frightened ! Doubtless, the 
manner in which you were brought here surprised and 
alarmed you ; but consider, my dear child, that as I had 
to leave in my frigate to-night, I could not stay to be 
particular about the means. I was in an agony of appre 
hension, that after the departure of Captain Drake you 
would not quit the brig. Judge, then, of my joy at seeing 
you and your young brother land and stroll into the woods. 
The opportunity was too good to be lost. You know all 
the rest ; and it only remains for me humbly to solicit 
pardon for the means I have taken to possess myself of 

With these words, Don Jose took one of Amy's hands, 
and was about to carry it to his lips, but the young girl 
snatched it indignantly away, and rising from the couch, 
said — 

" Sir, I do not understand you, nor can I understand 
your meaning in thus tearing a young girl from her 
friends — a sister from her brothers." 

" You cannot understand why I have done this 1 Then 
I will tell you, and let it be my excuse," said Don Jose. 
" I ordered my slaves to carry you off and bring you 
here, because I love you — deeply, passionately love 

Then the Spaniard again attempted to take her hand, 
but Amy, colouring with shame and vexation, started back, 
and cast a hurried giance round the room. * las ! she 


perceived that the only window was high from the ground, 
and that the door was closed and barred. 

Disdaining to reply, she pointed to the door of the room, 
and said — 

" Sir, will you open that door, if you please 1 " 

" My dear young lady," said Don Jose, persuasively, 
" I am sure you will not he so unkind, so cruel, as to per- 
sist in your request ; pray consider my love, my devotion, 
and " 

" Will you open that door, sir 1 " said Amy, stamping 
her little foot. 

" Impossible, my little angel. I wish to converse with 
you ; so be seated, I pray.'' 

"Once again, sir," said Amy, the tears gathering in her 
eyes, " I desire you to open that door, or " 

"Or what?" 

" Or I will kill myself before your eyes ! " she ex- 
claimed, passionately, snatching up a dagger which had 
been left on a chair beside her. 

Don Jose bit his lips. Amy appeared so determined, 
so resolute, that he feared she would carry her threat into 

" You will kill yourself ! " he said, forcing a smile : 
" and why 1 Because a brave, noble, and gallant Spanish 
gentleman loves you ! Surely a very insufficient reason, 
eh, Amy?" 

" Open that door," repeated Amy, more imperiously,, pale 
with passion. 

Don Jose" remained as if in doubt for a moment ; then 
appearing to yield, he said — ■ 

" So be it ; since you insist, far be it from Don Jose to 
prevent you. Since my love, my devotion cannot touch 
your heart, I will give you your liberty." 



Don Jose then advanced towards the door. 
Amy drew herself close to the wall, in order to allow 
him to pass her ; still, however, keeping the poniard 
pointed to her breast. 

Don Jose took from his pocket the key, and unlocking 
the door, said — 

" I am about to give you your liberty ; but before 
leaving me, I want you to promise that you Avill not men- 
tion what has occurred to any one. Promise, in the name 
of yourself and brother, that you will inform no one — not 
even Francis— of this day's adventure." 

Amy thought she saw in that request a sign of repent 
ance — that Don Jose" was not quite a villain. 

"I promise," she replied, " for myself and Harry, that 
no one, neither Captain Francis Drake nor any other, 
shall hear of this day's adventure." 

" I thank you greatly," said Don Jose, mournfully, " for 
your kindness, and accept your word with all gratitude. 
Fou are free ; your brother Harry is before, and I will 
give orders that he may rejoin you. You can await him 
in the garden." 

The door was open. Don Jose drew back to allow the 
young girl to pass ; but at the moment that she arrived at 
the threshold, he suddenly threw himself on her, and 
seizing the dagger, wrenched it from her hand. 

Amy, relying on the good faith of the Spaniard, -was 
taken quite unawares, and could make but a feeble resist- 
ance. In an instant she had lost her weapon, and the 
strong arm of Don Jose' encircled her body. 

Then commenced an unequal struggle between the 
Btrong man and the weak, defenceless girl. It was the 
struggle of the gazelle against the tiger — and the tiger 
prevailed ! 





Jt was night when Sir Edward, Francis, and Gideon 
arrived on the quay, after their perilous and unsuccessful 
expedition to Carthagena. 

Francis hailed the brig ; but before a boat could bo 
sent off, Will and Michael came running up. 

It was evident by their excited manner that something 
had gone wrong. 

" Where is Amy % " instantly asked Sir Edward ; " is 
she safe 1 " 

"Alas ! we know not," replied Michael ; "she has gone 
^disappeared, and we can discover no trace of her." 

" Gone ! " almost shouted Sir Edward ; " then my sus- 
picions were well founded." 

"Your suspicions!" said Francis; " what, then, do j on 
suspect 1 " 

Sir Edward said a few words, to his friend in a low 

The other brothers could not hear them, but they dis- 
tinguished the words "Don Jose." 

Francis grew ghastly pale ; he clenched his hands and 
set his teeth. 

" Will, Michael," he said, in a hoarse voice, "take some 
of the crew, and scour the forest, in case they have lost 
themselves. Sir Edward and I will go in another direc- 
tion, where we think we have a clue." 

Will and Michael, accustomed to obey their brother, 
were going, when Francis said — 

•' Stay a moment ; have you seen or heard anything of 
Don Jose i " 


■ Nothing." 

" And the Spanish frigate Santissima Trinidada 1 " 

" She was to have sailed this evening, but she has not 
yet commenced to heave the anchor up." 

" Good ; we wiLl meet again on the quay at midnight, 
when I trust the lost one will have been found." 

Then Francis and Sir Edward hurried away in the direc- 
tion of the house of Don Jose. 

" You think, then," said Francis, in a low voice, " that 
this was a plot on the part of this Spanish captain ; that 
he purposely got us out of the way in order to carry out 
Ms designs." 

'•'I think — I fear so," replied Sir Edward. "I re- 
marked yesterday the bold looks which he cast on her, 
but did not wish to disquiet you by calling your attention, 
as I thought I might, after all, be mistaken. Now, how- 
ever, it is but too plain ; I feel convinced that Don Jose 
has carried her off, and that she is now either at his house 
or on board the frigate." 

"Ah! I pray Heaven she may be at the house," said 
Francis ; " we will rescue her at the sword's point. If 
we three are not sufficient, our forty sailors and my bro- 
thers can easily overpower Don Jose and his slaves. Ah ! " 
ho hissed between his teeth, " but we will have revenge 
for this ! We will fasten up all the doors when we have 
rescued poor Amy, set fire to the house, and roast the per- 
fidious wretch and all bis gang alive ! " 

One would hardly na\e thought that it was the same 
man speaking, who, a few hours previously, shuddered to 
look on the dead bodies of his slau filtered enemies. But 
the terrible suspicion which haunted him, as well as Sir 
Edward, of the last infamous outrage committed, had 
turned the mild, kind-hearted Francis Drake into a very 


iger. He thirsted for blood with an intense longing ; 
nothing but blood could appease his just rage. 

"he three hurried rapidly on in the direction of Don 
Josi 's house. 

Tiiey arrived at the gate of the garden where they had 
befo;e entered. 

Ei ancis, burning with rage, was about passing in, but 
Sir lid ward took his arm, saying — 

" Not that way, my friend ; it behoves us to be wise as 
well as brave. Come round to the back of the house ; we 
can then reconnoitre at our leisure." Then skirting the 
fence, they made their way cautiously round to the back. 

Gideon pulled some of the stakes from the high fence, 
60 as to make a sufficient opening, and then the three 
passed in. They crept slowly and cautiously round, only 
exchanging a word now and then in a low voice. 

When they were at some fifty paces' distance from the 
house, they again paused to survey their position. 

All was dark and still as death. It almost seemed as if 
the house were deserted. A faint light glimmered, from a 
small window on the first floor, and another from a room 
on the basement. 

They crept up to an outhouse or shed, which was almost 
adjoining the house, and consulted together in a low voice. 
" One of us had better go first," said Sir Edward, "and 
see where that light on the basement is from ; the window 
is open, so there will be no difficulty. If you and Gideon 
remain here, I will undertake that." 

" The house seems deserted. "What if Don Jose has 
gone on board his frigate, and taken Amy with him 1 " 
" Hush ! " said Sir Edward, listening intently. 
They all heard a faint gurgling cry. It proceeded, 
apparently, from the interior of the shed. 



" "What can it be ] " said Francis, as they again heard 
the .-strange sound. 

" Hush ! let us investigate." 

Sir Edward then drawing his sword, and holding a 
pistol in the other hand, groped his way cautiously around 
the shed, searching for the door. The others followed 
him, and he presently succeeded in fineling the entrance. 
It was barred from the outside, but the fastenings wer 


quickly and noiselessly removed. Sir Edward opened the 
door, and, sword in hand, entered. 

All was dark. Again they stopped and listened, and 
again they heard the same smothered, gurgling cry. 

" Gideon, strike a light," said Sir Edward ; " you have 
flint and steel and a piece of taper." 

Gideon obeyed ; and in a few moments a small taper 
was lighted. 

Sir Edward took it, and advanced into the shed. The 
place was large, and the taper shed but a dim light, so it 
was some time ere they could discover whence the strange 
sound proceeded. At last they discovered a form lying 
on the ground in one corner. They advanced to it, and 
examined it by the light of the taper. 

" It is Harry ! " exclaimed Francis, " bound and gagged 
like a felon ! " 

Soon the bonds were loosened from his limbs and the 
gag taken from his mouth. It was some time before he 
could speak, but he kept pointing towards the house in 
answer to their inquiries for Amy. 

Francis was for forcing his way in at once, but Sir 
Edward, more prudent, thought it better to wait till Harry 
oould give them some explanation. A draught of wine 
from a flask revived him ; and, having stationed Gideon 
at the door as sentry, and extinguished the light, they 


proceeded to elicit from Harry the history of the outrage, 
■with which the reader is already acquainted. 

Frequent exclamations of rage broke from Francis at his 
brother's recital. 

" And Amy— where is Amy now 1 " he asked, wildiy. 

" I do not know, but they carried her into the house, 
and I think she is there still." 

" Come, let us go, Sir Edward — let us tear her away 
from this ruffian ! " 

" Stay one moment," was the reply. " Harry, do you 
know where Don Jose^ is ? — is he in the house ? " 

" I think not, for although bound hand and foot and 
gagged, I could still hear sometimes what was going on. 
I gathered that Don Jose' was going on board his frigate, 
and would return at midnight to the house." 

" Ah, the thief, the villain ! " muttered Francis ; " it 
was to carry off my poor little Amy, no doubt. But wo 
will defeat that ; and Amy only once safe, I pray to God 
I may meet this Spanish ruffian ! " 

Sir Edward now proceeded to creep cautiously up to the 
house, in order to see through the open window on the 
ground floor. Francis, Gideon, and Harry remained in 
the shed, awaiting his return. 

Francis could with difficulty restrain his impatience ; 
he fretted and fumed, and ever and anon grasped bin 
sword convulsively, as if longing for the fray. 

Sir Edward returned in about ten minutes, and reported 
that there were only two negroes asleep in the room from 
which the light shone. 

The window was low, and they could easily effect an 
entrance. He proposed, then, that they should enter as 
quietly as possible, and throwing themselves on the sleep- 
ing negroes, should bind and gag them before they could 


raise an alarm. Then they coal* 1 make their way into the 
house, and search it from top to bottom. 

This plan seemed so feasible, that it was decided upon ; 
and they all four sallied out, and crept cautiously towards 
the house. 

It was now nearly eleven o'clock, and it was important 
that they should effect their object before the return of 
Don Jose ; for doubtless he woiild be accompanied by an 
armed party of sailors from the Spanish frigate. 

Arriving at the window, Sir Edward raised himself by 
his hands, and sprang lightly into the room. Gideon and 
Harry had employed themselves in making ready bandages 
and gags for the negroes. Francis followed Sir Edward 
into the room, and they then both waited for Gideon to 

Gideon, unfortunately, did not enter so quietly, and one 
of the negroes opened his eyes at the noise. He gave a 
slight cry, and was about to "repeat it, when. Sir Edward, 
placing a pistol to his head, said — 

" Another word — another sound, and I blow your brains 

The nigger cowered down in alarm. Meanwhile, Francis 
and Gideon seized and bound the other negro, who, taken 
thus by surprise, did not offer any resistance. 

Having gagged one of the slaves, Sir Edward proceeded 
to interrogate the other in Spanish. 

" Now, you black scoundrel !" he said, " where is the 
young lady whom either you or some of your fellows 
carried off, by Don Jose's orders?" 

The negro at first protested that he did not know — that 
he had seen no young lady ; but being further pressed, 
and threatened with instant death if he did not tell, he 
confessed that he had seen the young girl, but that he did 


not know where she then was. He thought that Don 
Jose had taken her on board with him. 

This was all they could elicit from him, so they deter- 
mined to search the house for themselves. First, however, 
they gave Marry a loaded pistol, and left him as guard 
over the two blacks, instructing him to shoot them should 
they offer the slightest resistance, or attempt to free them- 

They found that the room in which they were had no 
communication with the rest of the house, but that the 
door opened into the garden in front. They did not open 
this door, but passed out at the window, in the same man- 
ner as they had entered. 

Arrived at the front, they tried several doors in suc- 
cession ; but all were fastened. Francis then, wtih sailor 
nimbi en ess, clambered up the trellis-work, and gained a 
footing on the balcony, leaving Sir Edward and Gideon as 
guards below. Passing along this balcony, he came to the 
window which opened on to it. This was unclosed ; so, 
without, hesitation, the young Captain passed into the 
saloon. He advanced into the centre of the room, and 
listened. All was still ; it appeared as if the house was 
entirely deserted. 

" Perhaps," thought Francis, " there is no one in the 
place but those two negroes below." 

He now struck a light, and lit the taper with which he 
had provided himself. He now perceived that he was in 
a large long room, with two doors — one on his right hand, 
the other on his left. He first noiselessly opened the door 
on his left, and perceived that it led out on to the landing 
at the head of the stairs. Glancing down these latter, he 
saw a light proceeding from a half-opened door at the bot- 
tom, and heard the sound of voices. 



1 Ah !" he said to himself, " there are, then, people in 
the house. Good ! I will try the other door before I ven- 
ture any farther this way." 

Then he quietly reclosed the door, and softly made his 
way to that at the other end of the room. He entered 
another room, smaller, but furnished much in the same 
style as the first. Again beyond him he saw yet another 
door, from underneath which streamed a thread of light. 
He approached cautiously, and listened with bated breath* 
Yes, he certainly could hear some sound. It seemed to 
him to resemble the stifled sobs of a woman or child. 
His heart beat wildly ; was this — could this be Amy, and 
had he found her 1 

He advanced quite close to the door, determined to open 
it at all hazards. He saw that it was locked and bolted 
on the outside ; but the key was in the lock. Whoever, 
then, was m the room was locked in. Still, however, 
determined to be prepared for any event, he drew his pis- 
tol, and held it in his right hand, while with his left 
he shot back the bolts. At the first sound he made 
by this, he heard a faint cry of terror in a female 

"It is Amy," he cried, recognizing the voice. 

The next moment he turned the key, and threw open the 

The room was dimly lighted by an oil-lamp suspended 
from the ceiling. It was the same boudoir into which the 
blacks had first carried the young girl. Crouched up in a 
corner, her head buried in her hands, he saw the form of a 
young girl. 

" Amy !" he cried to her. 

"Oh ! spare me — spare me ! For the love of Heaven 
let me leave this place 1" 


"Amy," again said Francis, ''look up! Do you not 
know me?" 

She looked up, and seeing by the dim light the figure of 
a man standing with a pistol in his hand on the threshold, 
she gave a faint scream, and again hid her face in her 

" Poor child !" said Francis ; " agitation and terror have 
quite unnerved her , she does not know me." 

He advanced towards her, and touching her on the 
shoulder, said — 

"Amy, look up — it is Francis, your brother." 

The young girl looked up, and gazing for a moment half 
incredulous, she arose, and threw herself weeping into his 

"My poor Amy, what has happened? Oh! I will be 
revenged for this outrage ! Come, tell me all." 

But a passionate burst of tears was the only reply. 

" Don Jose," she murmured. " Oh, Francis ! the fiend 
— the wretch !'' 

Again the tears flowed copiously, and she clung pas- 
sionately round her brother's neck. 

" Come, let us be going," said Francis ; " it is time we 
left this accursed place ; for accursed it is, and shall be 
from this day forth !" 

He was pale as death, and his voice trembled with emo- 
tion. The few muttered, incoherent words of Amy to him 
spoke volumes. They told of insult and outrage ; and 
the fiend of revenge and hatred, who before had only 
occupied the outworks, now took entire possession of his 

He raised poor Amy in his arms, and carried her through 
the two adjoining rooms on to the balcony. 

"Sir Edward," he said, in a low voice, '•' i have, found, 


her. Climb a part of the way up the trellis-work, and 
take her from my hands." 

A cry of joy broke from Sir Edward as he heard these 
words , the next instant he had planted his foot on a pro- 
jection on the pillar which supported the balcony, and 
received Amy in his arms. Francis leaped down after- 
wards, and all moved round to the rear, in order to relieve 
Harry from his watch over the two negroes. 

A small inlet from the bay ran close up to the back of 
the house. As they were leaving the garden, they heard 
the sound of oars approaching. 

" Come, come — quick ! " said Sir Edward, peering forth 
through the darkness. "I can see a boat coming up the 
creek ; they have lanterns on board, and I doubt not that 
it is Don Jose returning in the boat of the frigate." 

But Erancis remained immoveable. His hand was on 
his pistol, and he seemed inclined to remain, and wreak 
his vengeance on the ruffianly Spaniard. 

"He will pass quite close," he muttered. "Twereeasy 
to put a bullet through his brain." 

"Come," said Sir Edward ; "is it thus you would have 
him die 1 Would you let him die the death of an honour- 
able man ? No, Francis, not so— his hour is not yet 
come. When he dies, it shall be with a rope around his 

" You are right, my friend — he shall die the death of a 

Gideon struck a light, and, looking at his master, said — 
"Shall I?" 

They were standing close to a rick of dried grass used 
for fodder for the horses. This communicated with the 
outhouse, so that in a few minutes, had a Light beei; 
applied, the place must have been in names. 


" jSTo," said Francis, ansv >riug for Sir Edward, "not to- 
day, my good Gideon, not to-day. Some day we will 
have a bonfire of that house, but — but, my brave friend) 
its master shall be inside ; we will roast him alive— fitting 
doom for such a wretch !" 

As the great clock of Santa Marta struck twelve, they 
were all on the quay. Francis carried Amy — who, poor 
child ! was yet sobbing and weeping bitterly — the whole 
distance, soothing and consoling her to the best of his 
power. Sir Edward Dudley walked moodily along by the 
side of Gideon, while Harry kept up with Francis and his 

Arrived at the wharf, they there found Michael, Will, 
and a number of the crew, who had been vainly scouring 
the woods in search of the missing girl. 

Michael and Will gave utterance to cries of joy when 
they perceived Amy and Harry. 

"Hurrah, boys !" they cried ; "hip ! hip ! hip ! -" 

Francis interrupted them sternly. 

" Silence ! " he said ; " this is no time for rejoicing. 
Let us hasten on board now, and then we will consider 
the means of revenge for the robbery, insult, and outrage 
that has been committed." 

The two boats of the brig were brought alongside, and 
speedily our adventurers were being rowed across the still 
waters of the bay towards the brig. Looking back over 
his shoulder, Francis could see the house of his enemy 
Dou Jose ; lights flashed from the windows, and evidently 
great confusion prevailed. Doubtless Don Jos4 had dis- 
covered his loss — the robber had been robbed. 

" I go now," muttered Francis, "but when I return, 
thief, murderer, and villain ! tremble, for thou shalt meet a 
terrible doom." 



Onoe on board the brig, Francis gave orders immediately 
to raise the anchor and put to sea. Then he carried Amy 
down stairs into the cabin, and having kissed her, and 
soothed her agitation, he bade her good-night, and went 
on deck to superintend the necessary operations. 

As soon as he gained the deck, Sir Edward Dudley ap- 
proached, and touched him on the shoulder. 

" Francis," he said, " what is your intention now 1 " 

" I go to England," was the reply, " a disgraced, in- 
sulted, plundered, and— through my sister — a dishonoured 
man. I go — but to return again. This time, I came to 
the New World as a peaceful, honest trader ; when next 
I come, it shall be as an avenger, a corsair, a pirate ! — call 
it what you will, Sir Edward — but I will make these 
dastardly Spaniards tremble and crouch when they hear 
the name of Francis Drake ! Sir Edward," continued 
Francis, " you must know well, that from this day I live 
only for vengeance ; and that vengeance I shall have, 
doubt not ; a terrible vengeance — a vengeance so terrible, 
that not only America, but the whole world, shall ring 
with it. But before I say more, will you answer me one 
question 1 " 

" Speak," was the reply \ " if it is in my power, I will 

" This morning, you said you must leave me .- are you 
still in the same mind 1 " 

Sir Edward was silent. 

" My question embarrasses you. Forgive me — I seek 
not to know your secrets ; it is enough that to me you 


have been a kind and generous friend. And, since we ar« 
to part, I say, from the bottom of my heart, God speed 

" Not so, Francis — we part not thus. I promised that 
one day I would tell you all ; that day has come. Listen, 
and you shall hear the secret and the crime which for five 
years has oppressed me." 

The songs of the sailors, as they tramped round the 
capstan in heaving up the anchor, warned him that his 
time was short. 

" I will be as brief as possible ; then, when I have told 
you all, you shall judge whether I ought to remain here, 
or go with you. My name, as you know, is Sir Edward 
Dudley ; my family is ancient, noble, and rich. Ten 
years ago my father died, leaving myself and one brother, 
liVuert, to the care of our mother. But, alas ! she survived 
him but a few years ; and at the age of eighteen, myself 
and younger brother were alone in the world. The fore- 
thought of my father had provided us with a kind and 
good guardian — an English gentleman in the same county j 
his name was Edward Conyngham. Under the watchful 
eye of this good and noble man my brother Eobert and 
myself grew up to man's estate. But another misfortune 
was yet in store for us, I had scarcely attained my 
twenty-first year, when the storms of adversity broke over 
the head of our father's friend and our-guardian. By some 
means or other, he had rendered himself obnoxious to men 
high in power at Court. He was accused of treasonable 
practices, and, by the devices of his enemies, was con- 
demned unheard. His life was spared, but his estates 
were confiscated, and a sentence of banishment pronounced 
against him. He escaped the scaffold, however, but to 
perish miserably of a broken heart His great, proud 

TTTO gROTHEft S CUR8*. 159 

spirit chafed and wore his body away. Smarting under 
the disgrace and dishonour to which he had been unde- 
servedly subjected, Edward Conyngham, driven from his 
ancestral home, his hitherto spotless escutcheon falsely 
branded with the crime of treason, and his knightly 
honour and word impugned, died, a wretched exile. Not 
that he ever felt the pangs of want ; my brother and I, 
from our ample means, guarded against that. No ; he 
died literally from a broken heart, leaving his only 
daughter, Eva, alone in the world — an orphan, friendless, 
and penniless. 

"Eva Conyngham — who could see and know, without 
loving her 1 Cast in Nature's fairest mould, she had all 
the laughing vivacity of a girl, with all the dignity of a 
woman ; a beautiful, faultless face, large blue eyes, and a 
figure graceful as that of the gazelle — such was the fair 
Eva. On her father's death, we hastened to offer her a 
home. At first she refused, as she thought it not decorous 
for a young maiden to live alone in the house with two 
young men, even though they were her father's wards. 
We overcame her scruples by procuring an old lady, a dis- 
tant relation of ours, to come and live also with us ; and 
in a month from her father's death, the young and beauti- 
ful girl formed one of our family circle. 

" I have said that to see Eva Conyngham was to love 
her. My brother loved her fondly, passionately ; and, 
Francis, I loved her also. My younger brother, though of 
an affectionate and frank nature, had one grave fault — he 
was obstinate and unforgiving. When he said 'No,' it 
was ' no ; ' neither threats nor entreaties would ever bend 
him from his purpose. He never forgave an injury or an 
offence, however slight. It was in vain that I would 
reason with him, would repeat that human nature waa 


frail, sinful, and liable to error, and for that reason he 
should sometimes forgive the faults of others. He would 
only bow his head, and say — 

" 'Edward, I admit of no pardon, because I do not 
admit the necessity of a fault or a wrong, be it ever so 


" One example out of a thousand will give you an idea 
of the character of my brother, Robert Dudley. "We had 
at the old hall a gardener, a man with not the best of 
characters. He had, however, been an old and favourite 
servant of my father, and for that reason I retained him. 
The steward of the estate discovered him in an act of dis- 
honesty — a petty peccadillo ; for this I determined to di& • 
charge him. He had, however, a wife ; and children, and, 
moved by the tears and entreaties of these, I gave way 
and consented that he should have one more trial. On 
learning that I had determined to let the man keep his 
place, Robert said to me — 

"'You mean, then, to keep a thief in your service! 
Good : you are the eldest son — the place is yours — you 
are the master ; but believe me that, as I hate all thieves, 
I shall take every means of showing my detestation.' 

"And he kept his word. One day, when we were 
strolling together in the park, we came across this gar- 
dener. Robert, without any warning, struck the man to 
the ground at a blow, saying — ' Get out of my sight, thief !' 
And when, some days after, the man again crossed his 
path, Robert did as he had done before, I found it neces- 
sary for the man to leave, as I knew my brother would 
never give way. This little incident will give you a better 
idea of my brother's stern, unbending nature than by de- 

"Six months passed happily away. Eva — beautiful. 


graceful, and gay — was the life and soul of our home. 
Weed I say, Francis, that I loved her? but, in considera- 
tion for my younger brother, I forbore to press my suit. 
He, on the contrary, impulsive and passionate, lost no 
opportunity of pressing his love on the young girl. Fre- 
quently I thought that she preferred me to the passionate 
and unbending Robert. Be that as it may, I resolved not 
to cross my brother's path, for I loved him almost as well 
as I loved her. If she returned his love, well and good ; 
however much the effort might cost me, I resolved to 
sacrifice myself for my brother's happiness. Frequently I 
would catch the beautiful eyes of Eva regarding me with 
a mournful glance when I unexpectedly looked up. On 
these occasions she would colour up, and look down in 
confusion. Still, however, I never by word or deed let 
her know that I had any feeling more than friendship for 
her. Robert, on the other hand, became more marked and 
vehement in his protestations of love than ever. What- 
ever may have been Eva's feelings towards him, she 
certainly did all in her power, by receiving his galantries 
in a playful, half -laughing manner, to prevent him offering 
his hand at once. I never knew — do not now know — 
whether she loved him or not ; but I always thought that, 
beneath all her laughing, playful manner, there lurked 
a real affection for him. As for Robert, there could be 
no doubt as to his feelings ; he never attempted to dis- 
guise them, but, on the contrary, took every means in his 
power of showing the young girl his love. 

"Things had progressed in this manner for nearly 
year, when, no longer able to bear the suspense, I resolved 
to know definitely whether Eva loved and meant to accept 
Robert as her husband. One morning I put the question 
frankly to my brother. 



"'Robert, I said, 'do you love Eva Conyngham V 

" 'Do I love her. Edwardl ' he answered ; ' yes, passion, 
ately, devotedly, with my whole heart ! I love her betteT 
than my life, or the life of anyone breathing, and I would 
slay like a dog anyone who dared stand between me and 
my love !' 

"At these words I felt that I turned deadly pale. Not 
that Eobert intended them for me ; for I feel convinced 
that at that time he had not the faintest suspicion of the 

" ' And Eva— does she love you V I continued. 

" ' I think — I hope — nay, I am sure she does.' 

" ' If you are, then, assured of her love, why do you not 
ask her to be your wife V 

'"To be my wife !' he replied, sighing. ' You do not 
think, Edward, that I am not like you — rich. I am but 
the second son — my fortune is small ; and if I married, I 
should have to separate myself from you, and from the 
home of my youth.' 

" ' By no means, my brother,' I replied. ' If Eva loves 
you, marry her, and remain where you are. Let us all live 
together ; in place of losing a brother, I shall have found 
a sister.' 

" Francis, you cannot imagine the effort, the pang which 
these words costs me. I trust that the purity of my 
motives, the greatness of the sacrifice I made, may be 
allowed to counterbalance my after crime. 

" ' Edward,' cried Robert, seizing my hand, ' yours ia 
indeed a noble heart ! You are my brother, and I accept 
your offer. I will go seek Eva, and if she consents to be 
mine, I will follow your advice. May I use your name as 
being desirous of our union % ' 

" A bitter pang shot through my heart at these words, 

the brother's cursb. 163 

It wanted but that. I had surrendered the woman I 
loved to my brother from pure and disinterested motives, 
because I thought that he loved her and she him, and 
now I was asked to lend my name as urging on their 
union. I did not reply. 

" Robert perceived my paleness and agitation. 

" ' What ails you, brother — are you ill ? ' 

" ' ]STo, not exactly ill, Robert ; but still, not quite well. 
You ask, may you use my name 1 I reply, you may, for 
I have only your happiness at heart ; and since you love 
her, and she loves you, what obstacle can there be to your 
union 1 ' 

" ' I will seek her now, this moment ; and surely she 
cannot refuse my prayers, joined to your wishes.' 

" So saying, Robert hurried off to find Eva. 

" My wishes ! — what a bitter mockery ! I, who loved 
her as woman was never before loved by man, thus to 
favour my brother's suit by allowing him to use my name 
as wishing their union ! A tumult of conflicting emotions 
raged in my breast : at one moment a fierce desire took 
possession of my mind also to seek her out, and, throwing 
myself at her feet, to bid her choose between him and me. 
But I remembered that he was my brother, and my better 
nature triumphed. 

" I was still walking moodily about the park, when I 
heard footsteps behind me ; I turned, and saw Robert 
and Eva approaching. Robert was radiant with joy — 
Eva, pale, Avith downcast eyes. My brother seized my 

" ' Edward,' he said, ' we have come to thank you — Eva 
and I — for she has consented.' 

" For a moment my heart stood still, and the blood 
ceased to flow in my veins. 


" ' Robert, Eva,' I said, ' I wish you all happiness.' 

" My voice faltered ; I could say no more. 

" ' Sir Edward,' said Eva, for the first time raising hei 
eyes to my lace, and gazing at me with a strange, wild 
expression in her beautiful eyes, whose meaning I could 
not then fathom — ' I thank you. Eobert has told me 
that you are willing and anxious for me to become liis 
wife. I am a poor lone girl, without friends or fortune ; 
you are my benefactor — to you and Eobert I owe every- 
thing. It is right that I should show my gratitude by 
obeying you in all things. Eobert says that he loves me ; 
it is, then, my duty to comply with your wishes, and try 
and make him happy.' 

" I did not then understand the mournful earnestness 
with which these words were said. Eva seemed to speak 
hal* in sorrow, half in reproach ; and as, taking Eobert's 
offered arm, she turned away to leave, she shot a glance 
at me from under her long lashes, so fall of strange but 
hidden meaning, that I stood in wonder and doubt as to 
whether I had done well and wisely. 

" Three months more rolled on, when there came, not 
a cloud, but the shadow of a cloud, between us. Era's 
manner to Eobert was strange and inexplicable ; her high 
spirits, her wayward, playful ways, seemed all to have 
deserted her. She yielded passively to all his wishes — 
not joyfully or gladly, bat as if she considered the sub- 
mission her duty. 

"Eobert, on his part, seemed more devotedly attached 
to her than ever. Her mild submission accorded so well 
with his own imperious nature, that he seemed not to 
miss the light of love in her eyes. She was his betrothed, 
and that was enough for him. He seemed to have neither 
fear lor jealousy, and treated her in every way as if she 


were already his wife. Thus, he was not ostentatious in 
his attentions to her, nor did he pay her the same assi- 
duous court as before their betrothal. He rarely took her 
out with him, but went frequently on hunting and fishing 
excursions, which kept him away sometimes for several 
days. On his return from these, he would resume his 
place by the fair Eva's side as a matter of right, and 
never seemed to notice the listless apathy with which she 
received him. 

"When I sometimes hinted that I thought he some- 
what neglected his fair finacee, he would reply — 

" ' Pooh ! my dear Edward, it is not the part of a man 
to be for ever tied to a woman's apron-strings. Eva and 
I understand each other. I love her, and she loves me ; 
what more do we want till we marry ? I have the love of 
a good and beautiful girl, and she has the heart and arm 
of a brave and honourable English gentleman at her ser- 
vice ; what need, then, for billing and cooing ? ' 

" But I must hasten my story to a conclusion, for 
already I perceive that the anchor is nearly a-weigh. 
Robert was absent on one of his excursions when the 
event which I am about to relate to you occurred — an 
event which has filled with sorrow and changed the cur- 
rent of my life. 

" It was a hot, sultry summer's evening ; not a breath 
of wind stirred the foliage of the trees ; all nature seemed 
sunk into a luxurious repose. It was one of those calm, 
placid evenings which tempt a man to forget the troubles 
and storms of life, and to embrace unquestioned the en- 
joyments of the moment, forgetting alike the future and 
the past. The sun was setting behind the Cornwall hills 
when I returned to the house. Even the very domestics 


seemed to have become infected with the general calm; 
for when I entered our ancestral mansion, I could almost 
persuade myself it was deserted, so still and quiet seemed 
everything. The hall-door was wide open, and, not seeing 
anyone about, I passed through into the great dining-hall. 
This room looked to the west, and was lighted by five 
Gothic windows, which opened on to a low stone balcony. 
Most of these windows were thrown open, so as to give 
free access to the balcony, and also to admit the soft sum- 
mer breeze. I passed on to the balcony, and gazed forth 
on the scene. The sun was just disappearing behind the 
liills, which it lighted up with glorious golden splendour: 
the old oaks and chesnut-trees in the park rustled softly, 
as a gentle evening breeze played in then - branches ; the 
deer and cattle gathered together in groups ; while the 
cawing rooks, returning from the fields, and circling around 
their nest, proclaimed that the hour for repose had come. 
In the distance, to the north-west, I could see the blue 
waters of Falmouth Bay, dotted with the white sails of 
many a boat and fishing-smack. Calm and still, with not 
a ripple to be seen on its broad surface, old Ocean himself 
seemed as if about to sink to rest. 

" I gazed long and earnestly, and then sank into a deep 
reverie. Phantoms of the past, visions of the future, 
floated before me, till at last I ceased thinking at all, and 
fell into a state of dreamy oblivion of everything. The 
opening of a door, and the rustling of a woman's dress, at 
last aroused me ; I awoke from my trance — for it partook 
more of the nature of a trance than a dream. Slowly and 
dreamily — for I was still but half-awake, I turned from 
the balcony to re-enter the hall ; as I passed into the re- 
cess of one of the old Gothic windows, I perceived * 


figure seated on a low couch, half hid by the heavy folds 
of tapestry. It was the figure of a woman, and her lace 
was buried in her hands, as if in sorrow. 

" ' Eva,' I said, ' is that you 1 ' 

" Eva started — for it was indeed her — and, without re- 
plying, turned away her head. Surprised at her silence 
and strange behaviour, I seated myself by her side, and 
again addressed her. Still no answer. Looking more 
closely into the half-averted face, I saw that she was in 
tears. At that sight the tide of love rushed with full 
force to my heart, threatening to burst the barriers which 
I had with such bitter heart-burnings erected. Who can 
love, and yet be wise ? Had I been wise, I should have 
risen and left her ; as it was, I took her hand tenderly in 
mine, and asked — 

" ' Eva, why these tears t — what is it vexes my sweet 
sister 1 ' (How I hated the name !) ' Has Robert been 
unkind ? has he offended you 1 ' 

" ' Robert ! ' she exclaimed, passionately ; ' do not men- 
tion him. Is it not enough that I must many him, with- 
out having his name constantly breathed into my ears, 
and by you, too t ' 

The tone in which she said the words, ' by you, too,' 
caused a thrill to shoot through my frame. The hand 
I held trembled in mine, nor was it sought to be with- 

"By a great effort I commanded my feelings, and 
said — 

" 'But Eva, you are, as you say, going to marry my 
brother Robert? He loves you, and you — — " 

" ' I am to marry him, that is sufficient, Sir Edward,' 
she said, in faltering accents ; ' of course, I am to marry 
him. la it not your orders i Am I not a poor, friendless 


girl, dependent on your bounty, and have you not desired 
me to wed your brother ? ' 

" ' Eva ! ' I exclaimed, in astonishment, ' what mean 
you ? Can you think me so base as to bid you wed 
against your will 1 ' 

" ' Did you not send Robert to me to ask my hand 1 ' 

" ' I asked Robert if he loved you ; he told me did, and 
that you loved him in return. Then I bade him seek 
you, and offer to make you his wife.' 

" ' He said that I loved him,' she answered, mournfully; 
' well, Robert is good, kind, and noble — I ought to love 
him, for he is to be my husband.' 

" ' Do you not, then, love my brother i ' I asked, my 
heart beating wildly with emotion as I awaited the 

" But no answer came. 

"A tumult of passion raged within me. I held hex 
hand, and I fancied that the delicate fingers clung with 
a soft grasp to mine. Again, with trembling voice, I re- 
peated the question. 

" ' Eva, do you not love my brother ? ' 

" A passionate burst of tears was the only reply. 

" Maddened with the sudden knowledge of the truth 
which now burst upon me, I drew her to myself, and im- 
printed kiss after kiss on her brow, her cheeks, her lips. 
I clasped her yielding form in my arms ; she laid her 
head on my shoulder, and wept tears, not of grief, but of 
joy. One fair arm was around my neck, while she looked 
up in my face with the light of love welling up from her 
deep-blue eyes. 

" In that mad moment all was forgotten. I forgot that 
it was my brother's betrothed that I held in my embrace ; 
I forgot the sacrifice I had already made of my love ; 1 


forgot my brother — I forgot myself ; I forgot all but my 
love ! 

" ' Eva ! ' I exclaimed, straining her passionately to my 
breast, ' I love you — say, do you also love me 1 ' 

" The soft white arm tightened around my neck, and 
her lips sought mine in reply. 

" At this moment a dark shadow passed between us 
and the fading light; I looked up, and saw my brother 
Eobert ! 

" He stood regarding us for one moment. Never shall 
I forget that look ; it contained all the concentrated hate 
of a fiend. Eobert looked grand, terrible in his just rage. 
Pale as death, with glaring eyes, he surveyed us for some 
time in silence. 

" I was the first to speak — 

" ' Eobert,' I said, with guilty, faltering voice, ' your 
pardon ! ' 

" ' Talk not to me of pardon ! ' he cried, furiously ; 
' traitor, liar, thief ! Arise, leave your leman, and follow 
me. You have your sword — I have mine. One of ua 
dies this night ! ' 

" Eva shrieked, and clung fainting to me. 

" ' Throw off yon wanton, if you be a man, and follow 
me ! ' he cried, furiously, stamping his foot. 

" 'Not so, Eobert,' I said ; 'she is no wanton. I have 
been weak, foolish, and perhaps false ; but not guilty, I 
knew not what I said or did ; I was mad, intoxicated with 
her beauty and my love — for know that I have loved her 
long and truly, and that I have hitherto sacrificed my love 
to your happiness. I cannot fight with you, for you are 
my brother.' 

" ' Ha ! ' he exclaimed, passionately ; ' are you, then, a 


coward, as well as a villain t Take, then, the coward's 
meed !' 

" With these words, he dashed his clenched fist in my 
face. I staggered backward ; a crimson stream followed 
the blow. Instantly the hot blood of the Dudley's boiled 
within me. I saw no longer before me my brother, but 
only a man who had struck me. 

" ' Lead on,' I said, ' Robert Dudley ; 1 will follow 

" Then we two brothers went out together with mur- 
derous intent. 

" Our lands ran down to the sea ; at one place the 
beach was not a quarter of a mile distant. Thither Robert 
led the way, and halted on the sands, which the tide had 
lei! b: i re. He quickly divested himself of cloak and doublet 
I did likewise, and we drew our swords and commenced 
to fence. 

" Robert, blind with rage, attacked me impetuously, his- 
sing out from between his teeth epithets of scorn and hate. 

"'Thief!' he shouted, and lunged furiously at my 

" I parried the thrust, and lunging at him in turn, gave 
back — 


" So the combat went on. 

" My blood was now up ; and in turn I attacked my 
brother as savagely as he had attacked me. He had suc- 
ceeded in wounding me in the arm. The pain of the 
wound but increased my rage. I pressed him closely. My 
arm was stronger, my wind better ; I was a better swords- 
man than he. Hard pressed, he retreated before me, still 
hurling at me the most insulting and bitter taunts. Blind 

the brother's curse. 171 

with passion, I redoubled the fury of my attack. Again 
and again I lunged at him, while he with difficulty de- 
fended himself. A thrust in carte — he parried it. I drew 
back my sword, and, with the quickness of thought, and 
ere he could reverse his guard, I lunged in tierce. He 
attempted to parry — too late ! My sword passed beneath 
his guard, and — oh, horror! — the cruel steel went hissing 
through his flesh, right through his body, till the hilt came 
thump against his chest ! 

" "With a dreadful cry of agony, he fell backwards. I 
drew my sword from his body, and gazed with horror 
on my work. He lay struggling, apparently in the last 
agonies. The blood flowed in torrents from his wound 
and also from his mouth. I knelt by his side ; and, 
raising his head, endeavoured to staunch it. 

" ' Eobert ! Eobert ! brother — speak to me ! ' I cried, 

" The blood gurgled up in his mouth. A look cf in- 
tense hatred came over his pale, handsome face ; his eyes 
glared vindictively at me. He endeavoured, with feeble 
strength, to repulse me, and through the choking blood 
which rose in his throat, he shrieked out a curse upon my 
head — 

" ' Thief ! traitor ! murderer ! I curse you ! ' were the 
last words I heard, as I tied in horror from the scene. 

" In half an hour I returned with assistance ; a surgeon 
and a litter accompanied us. I had said that we had 
been attacked by robbers, and that my brother had fallen, 
desperately wounded. None doubted me, for from our 
earliest boyhood Eobert and I had never been known to 
have had a quarrel. 

" When we arrived at the spot of the encounter, to my 
bittei grief and dismay, we found that the rising tide had 


covered the sands. In vain I rushed up to my middle 
into the •water, and sought to find my brother, alive or 
dead. The waters siaged, the wind rose, and the waves 
commenced to lash themselves furiously on the beach. 

" I left the spot with a hell of remorse and despair 
raging in my breast, and the mark of Cain on my brow. 

" I have never seen my brother since that fatal day. 
His body was never found, nor was my crime ever sus- 

Francis listened with breathless attention to Sir Ed- 
ward's narrative, and shrank almost involuntarily from 
the fratricide. Sir Edward marked it. 

"Ah, Erancis, you may well shrink away from me, 
accursed as you think me by God and man ! A murderer 
in heart I know I am ; for I, in my passion, with murder- 
ous intent, passed my cruel steel through my brother's 
body ; but in deed I am not, for I have reason to believe 
that my brother lives. How he escaped, or how he reco- 
vered from that dreadful sword-thrust, I know not ; but I 
know — I feel — that he is not dead ! " 

" Not dead ! " exclaimed Francis, in astonishment ; 
" why, you left him, you say, in the last agonies, and when 
you returned the tide had covered the shore. Doubtless, 
it washed the body of your victim out to sea." 

" Francis, I tell you," said Sir Edward, solemnly, " my 
brother lives ! This happened five years ago. Four years 
ago, when worn almost to a skeleton by remorse and grief, 
1 received a letter. It was placed in my hands by 2 
stranger, who left, refusing to give me any information 
whatever. It contained only these words, in a strange 
hand: 'Your brother is alive.' And that is all I know 
or heard till yesterday. 

" Ever since that day, I have been wandering through 

the brother's cursb. 173 

^ <=. world, impelled by an irresistible, incomprehensible 
finpulae. I have a deep-seated conviction, amounting to 
t ^esentiment, that I shall ere long behold my brother's 
face again. I am not in my own hands ; a power which 
I can neither resist nor comprehend urges me constantly 
f"T>m place to place. This strange power, force, presenti- 
ment — call it what you will — now bids me remain in 
America, and in America I must for the present remain. 
Yesterday's adventure convinces me that the day is not 
far distant when I shall achieve the object which, for four 
long years, I have been striving for. That Indian who 
geve me the branch of the Abanijo tree, with the written 
scroll, 'Cain, where is thy brother?' could not have acted 
without some knowledge or design. None were witnesses 
of the deadly encounter but ourselves ; therefore he must 
be alive, for no other could have the knowledge to address 
to me those words, 'Cain, where is thy brother?' Yes, 
Francis, my brother Robert is alive, and in this country, I 
feel assured. It was lie who, for his own purposes, sent 
that Indian to me with the Abanijo branch. 

" And now, Francis, you know all. Have pity on me, 
and do not utterly condemn me for a crime which was 
committed in the heat of passion, and which crime, I have 
reason to believe and know, was not followed by fatal 

Francis frankly gave his hand. 

" Sir Edward, I pity you, and though I blame, I do not 
utterly condemn. If you have sinned, you have suffered, 
and it is not for man to set himself up in judgment on his 

Sir Edward shook warmly and gratefully the proffered 
hand of the young Captain. 

" And now " he said, " I will tell you the cause of my 


igitation at first seeing Julia Hansom. Francis, there is a 
higher power than that of man at work here ; for in Julia 
Eansom I saw the very image — the counterpart of Eva 
Conyngham. So extraordinary is the likeness, that, had 
I met her in the street, I should have addressed her as 

Francis gave. an exclamation of surprise. 

" But that is not all, Francis," continued Sir Edward. 
"You have, I doubt not, often wondered at the interest 1 
have taken in you and your affairs. Know, then, that as 
Julia is the very counterpart of Eva, you are the exact 
likeness of my brother Sober t. Can you wonder, then, 
that I should see in this double resemblance, and the irre- 
sistible impulse which first impelled me to Kamsgate, and 
then to follow your fortunes to the New World, the finger 
of Fate — of Providence 1 " 

"And Eva — what of her?" asked Francis ; "the cause, 
though perhaps the innocent one, of all this misery 1 " 

A dark shade came over Sir Edward's brow as he 
replied — 

" Eva — alas, poor Eva ! She never knew the terrible 
truth from me. I could not — dared not tell her. But 
still she knew all ; she saw us leave -with hate and passion 
in our hearts ; she saw that each had his hand on his 
sword ; she knew that we went out to light through her ; 
she saw us both go forth together, and she saw hut one 
come back : then she knew that I had slain my brother. 
J could not — dared not again address her in terms of love, 
although love burned in my heart as fiercely as ever ; but 
7 felt that, had I done so, the ghost of my murdered brother 
would have interposed and cursed the love obtained by 
murder ! 

" And now, Francis, you know all. Until I have found 


my brother, I am a wanderer on the face of the earth. I 
remain here to find a brother ; you return here to avenge 
a sister — both are sacred duties. Say, shall we meet 

"Please God !" said Francis, fervently. 

" Let us, then," said Sir Edward, " appoint a time and 
rendezvous, and we shall meet again, without doubt. And 
who knows that, by remaining here, I may riot be of greater 
eervice to you than by accompanying you to England ? 
You say that in six months you will return to the New 
World, and carry fire and sword among the Spaniards. 
This is the 3rd of April, 1564 ; I will meet you again on 
the 3rd of February, 1565." 

"Where shall the rendezvous be?" 

"Let it be the island of Trinidad, which, although 
belonging to the Spaniards, is almost abandoned by them. 
It will be easy for us to meet there without attracting 
their attention, while they would hardly suffer you to 
'oring an armed ship into any of the ports of New 

" So be it," said Francis, once more pressing his 
hand. " See ! the anchor is a- weigh. The ship's boat 
shall take you ashore, and God speed you, my kind 
friend !" 

" But you have forgotten one thing," said Sir Edward. 

"What is that?" 

" Why, your purpose to return with a large, well-armed, 
well-manned, ship. You forget that this will require 
money. I have not forgotten it. Here is a letter to the 
steward of my estate in Cornwall ; it contains an order 
to provide you with funds to the amount of five thousand 
pounds. Take it, and may it prosper in your hands !" 

*' My Mnd friend," said Fmncis, th£ tears starting to his 


eyes at this fresh proof of Sir Edward's regard, " I do not 
need it." 

" How so 1 — how will you purchase and equip your ves- 
sel of war ? " 

" There is a man in England who will gladly join me, 
and furnish the funds. His name is John Hawkins, and 
people call him Sir John Hawkins, though I know notwhy." 

" I have heard of him. He is a slaver, and hears the 
character of a desperate and reckless adventurer." 

"No matter," said Francis; "he is, I know, a brave 
man. The war which I am about to declare against the 
Spaniards shall be no little war; it shall be a war of 
extermination, and in time shall assume gigantic pro- 
portions — in time it will become a national war. The day 
will come when our great and glorious Queen shall approve 
and encourage the acts of Francis Drake, the Corsair oi 
the Main. In the meantime, it is necessary that I find a 
countryman to aid me with his mind and fortune m 
avenging the insult ottered bo our common country. Eng- 
land, in my person. John Hawkins, the slaver, will be 
that man. lie will join me, because, although he loves 
gold, he loves still better danger and glory. Thus it will 
happen that John Hawkins will renounce the wretched 
traffic in slaves, and will join me in ruining the power of 
the enemies of England." 

"Be it as you say, Francis," replied Sir Edward; 
"nevertheless, take the letter, and deliver it to my 
steward. It is my wish also to venture in this enterprise 
with you. Obtain what aid you can from John Hawkins ; 
if he is willing to venture enough to arm a sloop or a brig, 
take my five thousand pounds, and, placing it with his, 
you can then arm and equip a frigate, of which I shall be 
part owner," 


Sir Edward would take no denial, so Francis was forced 
to accept the letter, promising to use the money in the way 
Sir Edward prescribed. 

And now the anchor is up, and the crew are busy setting 
the sails of the brig. Sir Edward, bidding adieu to Francis, 
his brothers, Amy, and the sailors, descends into the boat, 
and, accompanied by the faithful Gideon, is rapidly rowed 
ashore. Then the boat returned to the ship, and in a few 
minutes her white sails were spread to the breeze, and 
she plunges through the waves once again, bound to Old 

For some moments the Englishman and his servant stood 
on the quay, gazing on the vessel which was fast bearing 
their friends far away across the broad blue ocean. Sir 
Edward took off his hat, and waved it aloft as a farewell. 
The morning was just beginning to break, and through the 
grey dawn he could just discern the figure of Francis on 
the taffrail. He saw him wave his hat in reply, and then, 
turning towards the house of Don Jose, clench his fist, 
and shake it threateningly. Well Sir Edward knew the 
meaning of the gesture ; well he knew that at that moment 
the young Captain was registering a solemn vow of a ter- 
rible vengeance ! 



Sir Edward Dudley and Gideon Glossop remained watch 
ing the Enterprise, as she sailed away from Santa Marta 
in the grey of the morning. 

"And where are we going now, master?" asked the 



latter, in doleful accents, as they turned away from the sea. 
" Yonder go our friends, in the little brig on hoard which 
we have spent so many happy hours. A pest on it ! it 
almost seems that we only make friends to bid them adieu. 
I wonder," he added, casting a last look back towards the 
receding brig, "whether we shall ever see them again?" 

Sir Edward made no answer, but walked on towards the 
town in silence. It was now broad daylight, and the sun 
had begun to gild the tops of the distant mountains ; still, 
however, the inhabitants of Santa Marta were buried in 
sleep. From time immemorial the Spaniards have been 
renowned for their slothful habits, and they had no inten- 
sion in the New "World, more than in the Old, of belying 
their reputation. 

Leaving the house of Don Placido on their right, master 
and servant turned up the principal street of the town. 
This was broad, and the buildings tolerably handsome; 
but the utter solitude gave it an appearance of sadness and 
gloom not calculated to raise the spirits. Sir Edward, 
followed by Gideon, sauntered slowly on, gazing about 
him with the air of a man who has nothing better to do. 
Suddenly his attention was arrested by the sound of cries 
and shouts, which appeared to come from a house close by. 

"Hark, Gideon!" he said, "what are those cries? 
There seems to be a fight going on." 

Scarcely were the words out of his mouth, when a man 
bounded from an open window immediately before them, 
and alighted at their feet. 

"By my faith," said Gideon, with a great horse-laugh, 
" but these people in Santa Marta have a curious fashion 
of coming out of their houses !" 

On hearing Gideon speak, the man who had alighted at 
the feet of Sir Edward, cried joyfully — 


" Ah ! you are Englishmen, gentlemen, by your speech, 
It link?" 

" Yes, sir," replied Sir Edward, secretly pleased to find a 
coi.ntryman, or, at all events, to hear his native tongue in 
tins foreign land ; "we are English." 

" Ah !" then I am saved !" cried the other. 

Then, saluting Sir Edward, he said, in English — 

" Sir, my name is the Baron Aloysius de Morny. 1. am 
a native of Gascony, in France ; and at the present time I 
am pursued by men who seek my life." 

Scarcely had the Baron de Morny of Gascony said these 
words, when the door of the house was thrown open, and 
three men rushed forth, swords in hand. These three men 
suddenly stopped when they perceived that their intended 
prey stood by the side of two others. Then one of them, 
who appeared to be the master of the others, advanced, 
and said in Spanish, addressing Sir Edward — 

" Senor, my name is Don Martinez de la Torre. I have 
just surprised this caballero in the chamber of my wife. 
Deliver him to me for vengeance." 

"Senor," replied Sir Edward, drawing his sword, in 
which Gideon followed his example, " whether you have 
found this gentleman in the chamber of your wife or not, 
is nothing to do with me. That with which I have to do 
is this — that he has demanded my aid, and that he is alone 
and unarmed, while you are three, and armed. Therefore, 
not only do T refuse to deliver him to you, but I declare 
that I will defend him with my sword." 

" Ah ! " shouted Don Martinez ; " is it so 1 Good ! 
Come on, men ; down with them all three ! — death to the 
traitors ! " 

But if the desire to punish the insult to his conjugal 
dignity prompted Don Martinez to attack Sir Edward and 


Gideon, it did not so operate on his followers, who re- 
mained deaf to his shouts for them to come on. These, 
while their master advanced threateningly, retired, and 
retired so well, that they vanished altogether. 

A cry of rage broke from Don Martinez, when he found 
that he had been deserted by his faithless followers. For 
one moment he seemed, notwithstanding the disgraceful 
defection of his men, to be about to attack the two de- 
fenders of his unarmed foe; but caution is contagious, like 

Eetiring, in his turn, after a moment's reflection, the 
hidalgo regained the threshold of his door ; and threaten- 
ing, although he dared not strike, he said — 

" Very good, Baron de Morny ; you escape me to-day, 
but another time I will find and kill you." 

"I doubt it much," replied the Gascon, mockingly, 
" In any case, when you do meet me again, I shall have a 
sword also ; and perhaps it is yourself who may be killed. 
I warrant me, Senor Martinez, that you will not find tha 
task so easy as you think." 

This episode — more comic than terrible, certainly— took 
place in less time than it has taken us to relate it. In the 
meantime, at the sound of the loud and threatening 
accents of Don Martinez, many windows were thrown 
open in the neighbourhood, and heads protruded. The 
Baron de Morny passed his arm familiarly through that of 
Sir Edward, and said — 

" Come, sir, this is not the place for me to thank you 
for your assistance. Come — I know where we can con- 
verse at our ease." 

" Converse !" thought Sir Edward ; " I have no wish to 
converse ! " 

Nevertheless, urged on by the same unacountab e im- 


pulse which he had oftentimes felt before, he resolved to 
accompany his new-found friend. "Why he did so, he 
could not say ; but he felt convinced that by so doing he 
should conduce to the attainment of his object. 

Taking first one turning, then another, and then again 
another, and dodging about like a hunted hare, the Gascon 
at last led our adventurers to a quiet little locanda, or inn, 
the landlord of which was just taking down the shutters. 

" It is not a very grand place," he said, entering ; "but 
tney sell very good Muscatel wirw, and it is not likely 
that Don Martinez will find us out here." 

"A pest on Don Martinez!" said Sir Edward, testily. 
"What care I if he does find us out? If he be wise, he 
will not attempt it ; for assuredly I will pass my sword 
through his body if he annoys me." 

"There, my friend," said the Gascon, "do not be an- 
noyed. No one fears Don Martinez, though he is a per- 
fect tiger ; but it is better always to avoid a brawl, if 

Sir Edward smiled slightly, and, seating himself, called 
for wine, and looked more attentively at his new com- 
panion. The Baron Aloysius de Morny was a man of 
about thirty years of age, beneath the middle height, and 
slender. The expression of his countenance in its normal 
state — that is to say, when not alarmed — was decidedly 
pleasing and good-tempered. Altogether, a physiognomist 
would have pronounced the Baron to be a good-natured, 
easy sort of person, not gifted with over-much courage or 
determination. Once inside the locanda, the Baron's fea- 
tures resumed their wonted expression of self-satisfied 
good nature. Casting a sly glance on Sir Edward and his 
servant, the Gascon thought he saw something of their 
thoughts in their faces, and coloured slightly. 


"Pardieuf" he said, with that magnificent bounce 
which a Gascon sometimes loses, but always recovers — 
"pardieu ! I think, gentlemen, that you must acknow- 
ledge that in this affair I have behaved as a man of cou- 
rage ? " 

" Oh, certainly," said Six Edward, endeavouring to look 
serious. "My dear Baron, no one doubts it for a mo- 

"I only mentioned it," said the latter, somewhat re- 
assured, " because, when I saw you, one might have thought 
I was running away." 

"Well, certainly," replied Sir Edward, this time unable 
to refrain from a smile, " it was open to that construction ; 
for certainly you came forth from that open rvindow hur- 
riedly enough." 

" Ah ! well, my dear sir, you must consider the circum- 
stances " 

" Yes, of course ; you were unarmed, and you had three 
men with swords against you. Now, had you been armed, 
it would have been different " 

" Ah, yes, of course. If I had only possessed a dagger 
or stiletto, or even a bodkin, I should have stood my 
ground, and have fought to the death." 

" Doubtless, my friend ; I can well imagine that, if you 
had the opportunity, you would fight valiantly. Of that 
we were well assured, or we should not have undertaken 
your defence." 

The Gascon bowed graciously to Sir Edward, as if he 
had but received his just meed of praise, and said — 

" Thank you, gentlemen ; I see you know a brave man 
when you see one, despite of unfavourable circumstances. 
You know my name ; may I request the honour of yours ? " 

"I am an Englishman, and my name is Sir Edward 


Dudley. This man is my very faithful servant, and his 
name is Gideon Glossop." 

The Gascon bowed, and filling the glasses on the table, 
said — 

"Here is to your health, Sir Edward, and to you»a 
Master Gideon." 

" To your health, sir," said Sir Edward, also taking a 

Gideon, nothing loth, followed his master's example. 

" And now, sir," said Sir Edward, " may I ask without 
indiscretion whit has brought you three thousand miles 
away from your native Gascony to a country where, doubt- 
less, the women are handsome enough, but where the 
men are so ridiculously jealous — as Don Martinez, foi 
example 1 ?" 

The Baron de Morny passed his hand complaisantlj 
through his hair, about which he was considerably vain, 
and replied — 

" My dear Sir Edward, in answering your question, 1 
shall have to relate to you quite a little romance ; and, 
since you wish it, if you will give me your ears, I will do 


" Proceed, then," said the other ; " we are all atten- 

" Master Gideon," said the Gascon, " will you have the 
goodness to close that door 1 For although the people 
here, as a rule, understand neither English nor French, it 
as well to be cautious." 

Gideon did as requested ; then the Gascon, having first 
replenished his glass, proceeded with his history. 




" I was four-and-twenty years of age when the death of 
my father left me in sole possession of one of the finest 
fortunes in G-ascony. I was fond of pleasure — of pleasure 
of every kind. I liked women, horses, wine, good living, 
and play — especially women and play ; these have always 
been my weaknesses. 

" I lived and enjoyed myself at such a rate, that in five 
years things had come to such a pass, that one day, on 
asking my steward, as usual for money, he replied coolly, 
not only that my coffers were empty, but also, that hav- 
ing sold or mortgaged all my lands, parks, woods, chateaux, 
and every other kind of property, there was only one course 
open to me to prevent me absolutely from starving, and 
that was, to engage as a soldier in the service of our good 
King Charles V- of France. 

" A soldier ! I, a gentleman and a Baron, to serve as a 
common soldier — preposterous ! I kicked the fellow out, 
and hastened to a friend of mine, who had frequently bor- 
rowed of me. His name was the Chevalier Madroy. Un- 
fortunately, the Chevalier was in as bad a plight as myself; 
he had the very night before lost his last crown at the 
gaming-table. Then I tried several other friends, but with 
the same ill-success. 

" I discovered, on looking into my affairs, that out of 
all my fortune there remained only a small house and farm 
at Cape Breton, at some few leagues from the town of 
Dax. The annual value of this little property was about 
eighty or ninety pounds English ; and yet this was ill I 


had — I, who had been in the habit of spending more thai, 
that each week ! 

" Well, sir, my friend Madroy and I went down to this 
place, and, after realizing what money we could, settled 
there, and passed our time as best we could on the very 
limited means at my disposal. One day, another friend of 
mine — a charming fellow, who had but one fault, which 
consisted in his being as poor as Job — presented himself 
before us. 

" ' My friends,' he said,' I come to bid you adieu for 

" ' To bid us adieu for ever ! Where, then, do you pro- 
pose going V 

"'To Spain, and from thence to the New World. A 
brave Castilian, Don Lopez de Badillo, second lieutenant 
on board the Spanish galleon the Santisxima Trinidada, 
has invited me to accompany him, and share his cabin. 
America is a new country ; there I shall proceed. I may 
make my fortune ; in any case, I cannot be worse off than 
I am at present. Adieu, then, my friends ; if I make my 
million francs over there, I will not forget to lend yon 
nome on my return.' " 

On hearing the name of the vessel mentioned — the 
Sanlissima Trinidada, the same which Don Jose de Cas- 
tanares commanded — Sir Edward started, and listened 
with renewed attention. The Baron de Morny pro- 
ceeded — 

" The sudden news of the intended departure of oui 
friend, who was named Constantine de Brissac, impressed 
me greatly. In the embarrassing position in which I was 
I received it as an inspiration, and said to myself, ' Why 
should not I go also : and seek my fortune in this new 
country \ ' 


"'You think, then,' I said to De Brissac, 'that it is 
possible to make one's fortune in South America 'i ' 

" ' Why not 1 The Spaniards have returned loaded 
with gold and silver, since they have had control over the 
New World- ' 

" ' The Spaniards,' I replied ; ' yes — but we are not 
Spaniards, and they forbid other nations to share the 
plunder with them.' 

"'Ah— bah! what matter 1 ?' he replied, impatiently. 
' Don Lopez has told me that it is forbidden to foreigners 
to trade with the natives ; but I have yet to learn that it 
is forbidden for us or any others to search out for ourselves 
new and undiscovered lands, and perhaps to find gold and 
silver-mines richer than any yet known.' 

" This mention of gold and silver mines decided me ; I 
resolved to accompany my friend. Our arrangements were 
soon made ; in ten days later we were all in Cadiz, where 
we embarked on board the Santissima Trinidada, Cap- 
tain Don Jose de Castanares ; and after a voyage of two 
months and a half, we arrived safely at Santa Marta — De 
Brissac, Madroy, myself, and one more, whom hitherto I 
have not mentioned to you." 

Sir Edward listened with rapt attention to his narrative, 
especially since the mention of Don Jose de Castanares' 
ship. He felt again the same singular presentiment which 
had so often troubled him before. 

" And the name of that other companion 1 " he asked, 

" His name was William Warner ; he was an English- 
man — a countryman of your own." 

The Baron de Morny refreshed himself from the wine- 
flask, and continued — 

"Ah ! I shall never cease to thank God for the company 


of this William Warner , for what •would have become of 
us in this country, had it not have been for him 1 ' Who 
was this William Warner 1 ' you ask. He was a fisherman at 
Cape Breton. None knew more — that was all he chose to 
tell ; and to this day I know not who he is, or where he 
came from. He came to Cape Breton in the year 1559, 
and remained there, following the calling of a fisher- 
man, till he accompanied us to the New World." 

"Ah!" exclaimed Sir Edward; "in the year 1559, 
you say, he arrived at Cape Breton 1 " 

" Yes ; in 1559. He was such an extraordinary man, 
that none could know him without wishing to know who 
and what he really was ; for it is quite certain that he is 
of a far higher station than he pretends to be." 

" In what way was he an extraordinary man ]" asked 
Sir Edward. 

" In what way 1 — in every way. I flatter myself I am a 
good judge of men, and I perceived at once that this Wil- 
liam Warner was no more born a fisherman than you or I, 
my friend. Not that he was not skilful in his calling — far 
from it ; no one on the coast could manage a boat better or 
more skilfully than William Warner. Many times has 
he gone off to vessels in distress, and rescued the crew, 
when no other would venture. On one occasion he saved 
me from drowning. He was the friend of all in his 
neighbourhood. Although he lived plainly, he had 
money, which he freely used in alleviating the distresses 
and wants of others. But he had one great peculiarity, 
and that was, a singular obstinacy of disposition. When 
once he said 'no,' neither heaven nor earth would turn 
him from his purpose. I never saw him angry, but I be- 
lieve his anger, if would be unappeasable" 


"Pardon me," said Sir Edward, interrupting him ; "wan 
this "William Warner of tall stature ? " 

« Yes." 

" Well formed 1 " 

« Yes." 

" Dark hair and complexion 1 " 


" And with blue eyes ? " 

"Yes; dark, and with blue eyes — a somewhat rare thing." 

" And have you ever remarked on his left temple the 
scar of a wound 1 " 

" Yes, frequently ; it was apparently from a sword-cut. 
Ah ! Sir Edward, by your close description of this William 
Warner, you must have known him ! " 

Giving way to uncontrollable emotion, the Englishman 
seized the hands of the Gascon in his. 

" Sir," he cried, anxiously, " this William Warner, the 
fisherman of Cape Breton, is with you in this country, is 
he not?" 

"Yes, without doubt." 

" And you know where to find him 1 " 

"Yes— well." 

" And you will conduct me to him ? " 

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure." 

Sir Edward Dudley appeared overcome with joy at 
these good tidings. Aloysius de Morny looked with 
astonishment on the emotion of the Englishman. He 
knew nothing of the circumstances, so that it was not 
wonderful that he should be surprised at so simple an 
affair affecting Sir Edward so deeply. After a time Sir 
Edward regained his composure, and said to the Gascon — 

" Baron, the news you have given me overwhelms me 
with joy. Eor five years I have been searching through 


the world for his man, this "William "Warner, to whom 
you say you will conduct me. Perform your promise, and 
do so, and you will merit my everlasting gratitude. 
Continue now your recital, and tell us what befel you, 
your companions, and "William "Warner, after your arrival 
in this country." 

The Baron continued his narrative — 

" There are some men who, without effort on their own 
part, inspire us with confidence in them. William 
Warner was one of these men. From the very first I anti- 
cipated that his skill, determination, and energy would be 
of the greatest service to us. With my companions, De 
Brassac and Madroy, it was different ; but then, they had 
not an opportunity of knowing him as I had. William 
"Warner, on board the Santissima Trinidada, kept himself 
studiously aloof from every one ; he sought no one's 
society, but passed his time principally in reading, or in- 
pacing up and down the deck. I often spoke to my friends 
about him, stating my belief in his powers and re- 
sources ; but they only laughed at me — they could not 
see of what assistance a Cape Breton fisherman could be 
to them. But the event proved that I was right. 

" Arrived at Santa Marta, after a passage of two months 
and a half, we betook ourselves to an inn in the town 
After resting ourselves, and changing our attire, we de- 
scended to a room on the ground-floor, intending to order 
dinner. In the entrance-hall we were met by "William 

" ' Gentlemen,' he said, in his usual calm, grave voice, 
'while you have been resting, I have been about the town 
making inquiries as to the country and roads j for I ima- 
gine it is not the intention of any among us to remain in 
Santa Marta.' 


" ' You have been making inquiries \ ' replied Do 
Brissac, ironically. ' How, in the devil's name, did you 
Jo that, my friend, in a country where they only speak 
and understand Spanish 1 ' 

" ' How did I manage that, sir ? ' replied Warnoi, 
calmly, and looking him in the face ; ' why, I asked them 
in Spanish.' 

" ' What ! you speak Spanish 1 ' 

"'Yes, sir, I speak Spanish, as also French, Italiau 
and English.' 

" ' Truly,' replied De Brissac, in a tone of annoyance— 
for he felt vexed at Warner's tone of calm superiority—' I 
was not aware that the Cape Breton fishermen were pro- 
fessors of languages ; and I congratulate myself greatly 
that our friend De Morny has had sufficient influence to 
procure us so valuable an acquisition to our party. 

"William Warner frowned slightly at these ironical 
words, and replied — 

" ' Monsieur de Brissac, no one has any influence over 
me — neither you, the Baron de Morny, or any other per- 
son. I have come to America because I chose to come ; I 
have come on board the same ship as yourselves because 
it happened to be the first ship ; I trouble myself about 
your interests because, for the present, they happen to be 
identical with mine. In the meantime, I wish to remark, 
that if your affairs lie in a different direction from mine, go 
your way, and I will do likewise. ' If you think you can 
manage best by yourselves, do so ; I leave you without a 
shade of regret.' 

"This was said with such an air of conscious power 
and superiority, that all felt — they knew not why — that 
William Warner was the master-spirit. Conscious of this 
fact, the little unpleasxntness was arranged satisfactorily^ 


and William Warner proceeded to unfold his plans to 

" ' You want gold, do you not 1 ' he said. ' Good ; I 
will tell you how to obtain it. You expect, I presume, to 
encounter difficulties, dangers, fatigues, and hardships 1 ' 

" ' Certainly.' 

" ' Good ; then, in that case, the best thing to be done 
is to direct our steps to the mountains of Sierra Nerada, 
about one hundred miles from this place.' 

"'But,' said Brissac, somewhat doubtingly, 'are you sure 
that we should be doing best by journeying to these moun- 
tains 1 The second lieutenant of the Santissima Trinidada 
has often told me that the richest mines of gold and silver 
are situated in the province of Poparzan.' 

" Don Lopez is right so far ; but perhaps he omitted 
to tell you that all the mines in that district are occupied 
and strictly guarded by the Spaniards, who will suffer no 
foreign interference with their rights. No, gentlemen j 
you may depend upon it that you will none of you succeed 
in filling your purses from those parts of the country which 
the Spaniards hold. If you wish for gold, you must seek 
it in new and undiscovered regions, where hitherto the 
New World conquerors have not obtained a footing.' 

" ' On my faith,' said Madroy, gloomily, 'it really seems 
to me that we shall have great difficulty in procuring a 
sufficient quantity of the precious metal to render us rich 

" ' ISTo matter,' replied Warner ! ' the greater the diffi- 
culty, the greater the glory. Listen to me : the Captain 
Jose' de Castanares knew no more than yourselves that I 
understood Spanish. While seemingly deeply intent on a 
book, I heard him talking with one of the officers concern- 


ing the gold-mines of New Granada, What I heard con- 
vinced me that, if we wish for gold, we must seek it among 
the mountains of the Sierra Nerada. It is true that the 
country is inhabited by a strange and savage tribe oi 
Indians ; but we must defy their arrows and tomahawks, 
if we wish for the gold their country contains. We are 
well armed; a hundred miles is only a four days' journey: 
what say you, gentleman — shall we set out to-morrow 
morning 1 ' 

'"Yes, yes!' we all cried; 'let us set out to-morrow 

" ' Good ; now let us go to dinner.' 

"Accordingly, on the following morning, we set out on 
our journey. William Warner had provided us with a 
negro guide who knew the country intimately. The com- 
mencement of our journey was highly satisfactory ; it 
resembled more a pleasure trip than an expedition in 
search of gold, fraught with difficulty and danger. William 
Warner marched in front with our guide, while I and my 
two friends amused ourselves by shooting at the numerous 
forest birds which swarmed the trees on each side of our 

"We had already travelled some eighteen or twenty 
miles into the immense forest ; the shades of evening com- 
menced to close in ; still, however, we pushed on, resolved 
to make a good day's journey of this our first. Suddenly 
the negro halted, and, trembling with terror, pointed with 
his finger into the forest on our right. We cocked and 
primed our arquebuses, expecting to see a tiger, a serpent, 
or some other wild animal. William Warner advanced 
in the direction of the place on which the eyes of the 
negro were fixed 


u < 

■ No, no ! ' cried the latter, in trembling accents ; ' no 
go there, massa. Indian there. If massa go there, Indian 
jump up and kill ! ' 

"But William Warner, not heeding the cries of the 
negro, advanced, and, not even drawing his pistol or poniard 
as a precaution against treachery, discovered an Indian 
extended on his back, to all appearance dead. He called 
us, and approaching the fallen savage, we perceived that 
he had received a terrific blow on the head, apparently 
from a hatchet or tomahawk. The Cape Breton fisher- 
man knelt by his side, and, after examining his wound, 
eaid to us — 

" This man is not dead ; but he will infallibly die if 
he be not removed, and his wound attended to. Come, 
gentlemen, procure two branches of trees, and let us carry 
him with us to the pulperia, our destination for this day. - ' 
" ' No, no !' cried the negro in terror; ' no carry Indian. 
If Indian dead, so much the more good. One less to kill 
White men.' 
" William Warner seized the negro by the ear. 
" ' How long will it take us to reach the pulperia, you 
black fool ? Do you know your way V 

" ' Yes, senor ; in half an hour we can be there — at the 
locanda of Sebastian Girenallo.' 

"'Good; then conduct us there, and hold your tongue ! ' 
"The pulperias, doubtless you are aware, Sir Edward," 
eaid the Baron de Morny, " are a species of rude inns, or 
houses of accommodation for travellers. They are situated 
for the most part in solitary places, in the midst of the 
vast plains, or prairies of South America. The occupiers 
of these are hardy hunters, who do not hesitate to brave 
the attacks of the Indians, in order to increase their store 
of gold and silver by selling to travellers going and return- 



ing to the interior provisions, spirit?, and other neces- 

" Grirenallo, the proprietor of the pulperia in question, 
had strongly fortified his lonely habitation by means of 
log barricades, and loopholing the walls. At the present 
time, however, he had taken other means of security against 
hostile attacks. He hid concluded a treaty, by which he 
agreed to pay the neighbouring tribes a monthly tribute 
of cloth, beads, tomahawks, and spirits. 

" Arrived at the pulperia, we were received gladly by the 
brave proprietor. On seeing the wounded Indian whom 
we carried, Sebastian Girenallo, unlike the negro, congratu- 
lated us on our good fortune. We had told the proprietor 
of the place that we were simply travellers, who wished to 
view the interior of the country. 

" 'If that is the case,' he said, as he motioned for us to 
enter, ' nothing could have been more fortunate than this 
meeting with the wounded Indian warrior. He will owe 
his life to you ; and a project which otherwise would have 
been fraught with danger, if not impossible, is thereby 
rendered easy.' 

"How so 1 ?' inquired "William Warner. 
" ' This wounded red-skin, answered Sebastian, ' is the 
Falling Eain, one of the most powerful chiefs of the tribe 
of Salhanas. The Salhanas are at peace with the Spaniards 
at present, so that my hut is in no danger from the Falling 
Eain or his warriors. It is an Ottomanko Indian, the 
enemies of the Salhanas, who has fallen upon him un- 
awares and thus wounded Mm, I doubt not.' 

" The words of Girenallo proved to be true ; for shortly 
the Indian returned to consciousness, and learning that we 
had found him lying wounded, and had carried hxsp t^ a 
place of safetv, his gratitude knew no bounds. His wound 


W»s more painful than dangerous, and on the following 
morning he was able to walk as well as ourselves. After 
again and again expressing his gratitude in the manner of 
his tribe, he offered himself to be our guide, and conduct 
us to any part of the country we chose. "We resolved to 
accept his offer, and dismissing the negro, we set out with 
mir new guide. Once on the road, William Warner no 
longer concealed our destination, but owned that we were 
bound to the Sierra Nevada mountains, and that we were 
in search of gold. The Indian listened gravely, and, after 
a long pause, said — 

"'The white men found the red-skin warrior alone and 
wounded by the roadside. They might have killed him, 
and taken his scalp ; but they did not do so. They 
brought him with them, and treated him as a brother ; 
the Falling Eain is grateful. The white men wish for gold : 
they need not go so far as the mountains to .find it. On 
the borders of the great stream, the Magdelena, are the 
hunting-grounds of the Salhanas , there is gold, and more 
gold than in all the mines of the Spaniards. My warriors 
aud I know of it, and that which thej- have concealed from 
all they will open to you ; for you are our brothers, and 
the wigwams of the Salhanas are always open to you. The 
white men shall have buffalo and deer meat to feed 
them, wigwams to shelter them, the Salhana warriors to 
protect them, and the Salhana women to attend on them. 
Then, when they have found enough of the yellow powder 
to satisfy them, they shall have horses to take it down to 
the sea.' 

" You may imagine, my dear Sir Edward, that we ac- 
cepted the offer of the redskin only too gladly; and on tho 
second day found ourselves at the encampment of the 
Salhanas. ^ut what say you if we breakfast before J 


finish my adventures ? You say you wish to accompany 
me back to where I left my friends and "William "Warner; 
we will, if you please, start immediately after we have 
refreshed ourselves ; then I can tell you all the rest as we 
march on towards Sebastian Girenallo's, which will be our 
first day's journey." 

" And what is the distance from thence to the Indian 
encampment ? " 

" About five-and-twenty miles." 

" Ah ! then we can easily arrive at the Indian village 
by to-morrow night ; is it not so, Baron ? " 

"Assuredly; we might even reach there to-night, had 
we horses. But, alas ! I have lost mine, and there are 
none to be hired at Santa Marta." 

Breakfast was now brought, and placed on the table. 
While doing justice to this, Sir Edward Dudley, who could 
not restrain his impatience, said — 

"How have you lost your horse j and why can we not 
hire horses in this place ?" 

" Ah ! " said the Baron, dolorously, " you ask me how I 
have lost my horse, and why we cannot hire horses here ; 
I will answer your first question first. My horse— a beau- 
tiful little mustang, a present from the Bounding Panther, 
one of my Indian friends — is at the present moment in the 
stable of Don Martinez." 

""Why, it seems, then, that you have not only lost your 
sword through your gallantry, but also your horse," said 
Sir Edward, laughing. " Indeed, Baron, in addition to 
these ruinous losses, you were also in danger of losing 
your life by the sword of Don Martinez. Truly, if your 
success in gold-finding is not better than your success in 
love, your toil is ill-rewarded." 

" Ah ! Sir Edward, it is no laughing matter. Nor could 


this misfortune have been well avoided ; for how could I 
or Donna Florida imagine that Don Martinez would return 
from Carthagena two days earlier than expected 1 " 

" And now for my second question : why cannot we 
procure horses here in Santa Marta ? " 

"Why, my dear friend," replied De Morny, " simply 
because, in travelling to the camp of the Salhanas, we 
shall have to pass through the lands of a hostile tribe of 
Indians ; and the proprietors of horses in Santa Marta are 
of opinion that, if the Indians attack and kill us, they 
will not have the politeness to bring back the hired horses. 
Do you understand?" 

" Perfectly ; so now let us finish our repast, refresh our- 
selves with one flagon of wine, and then start on our 
journey, for I am all impatience." 



In an hour's time Sir Edward, the Baron de Morny, and 
Gideon, were on the road through the forest which led to 
the pulperia of Sebastian Girenallo. Sir Edward, still 
eager for information, commenced the conversation aa soon 
as they were clear of the town, 

" Do you know this road well, Baron f " 

" Oh yes — very welL" 

'* I suppose, then, you travel this way often ! ** 

" Oh, assuredly ; never less than once a month.* 

" Do you travel it alone) " 

" Nearly always." 

w But I thought you said that travellers, except when 


in numbers, and well armed, were frequently attacked by 
the Indians?" 

" Assuredly ; the Ottomankos, and other hostile tribes, 
frequently attack white travellers." 

" And do not the dangers of the road alarm you V 
" Ah ! bah ! — no. Besides, what is the use 1 I know 
well that it is imprudent, for my friends at the Indian 
encampment always tell me so, and try to dissuade me. 
But what is to be done 1 When I. have passed twenty- 
eight days or so at the Indian village, with no amusement 
but finding gold, and only De Brissac, Madroy, William 
Warner, and the red-skins to speak to, I get wearied, and 
long for some life — some pleasure. Sir Edward, I like 
wine and jollity ; and, most of all, I love woman's charm- 
ing society. What wonder, then, that I should brave the 
perils of the road, for the sake of Donna Florinda de la 
Torre 1 Ah, sir ! if you but saw her, you would not 
wonder. Such a sweet figure, and large dark eyes— the 
grace of a queen in every movement ! " 

Sir Edward listened with surprise to this strange man, 
who fled in terror at the sight of Don Martinez with his 
drawn sword, and yet did not hesitate to risk his life alone 
in the forest to gratify his amorous propensities. At the 
request of Sir Edward, the Gascon now continued his 

"I left off," he said— "did I not t— at the point where 
we were about setting out for the village of the Salhanas 
with the Indian whom William Warner so opportunely 
succoured. The Falling Rain is a great chief, undoubtedly. 
No sooner had we arrived at the village, than he gave us 
his own wigwam ; the women of the tribe hastened to 
attend to us, bringing us meat, fruit, and drink. Then, 
the next day, the Falling Eain, with some other warriors, 


conducted us to where the gold was to be found. Oh! 
they nobly kept their word, I promise you. All along the 
borders of a little stream which coursed thrni^'i a iM'aufi 
ful valley, we saw the ground shining wiih Mir- ■.- ^ it 
yellow gold. On the first. day we gathered severai pound* 
weight, the Indians looking on with stolid indifference, nut 
not offering to take any of the precious metal. During six 
months De Erissac, Madroy, and I went day after day to 
the golden valley, and returned each night with abundance 
of gold. I assure you, Sir Edward, that the gold was in 
such abundance, that we disdained to pick up pieces which 
were not at least as large as coffee-berries. Strange to say, 
William Warner, the Cape Breton fishman, did not accom- 
pany us on these expeditions. The Indians also noticed 
it, and questioned us on the subject ; but we could give 
them no other information than what we ourselves obtained 
from our strange companion. His answer to all questions 
was — 

" ' I do not go for gold, because I do not want gold , is 
not that a sufficient reason 1 ' 

" But the fisherman lost nothing by this ; for, after the 
first two or three days, two of the Indians accompanied us, 
and joined in our search for the yellow metal. Their eyes 
were quicker, and their activity greater than ours, so that 
each day they took home nearly double as much as we did. 
At first we thought that this was for themselves ; but we 
were deceived, for we soon found out that each night they 
carried the gold they had collected to William Warner, 
and insisted on his taking it. Thus it happens, that at the 
present time the Cape Breton fisherman has more than 
three times as much gold as any of us, and each of us has 
more than ahorse can carry." 

Sir Edward looked somewhat incredulous at thiai 


'• What ! do you mean to say that you have more gold 
than a horse can bear on its back 1 " 

" Assuredly I do ; and no three horses could bear the 
heap of treasure which William Warner possesses." 

" And this William Warner — what does he do 1 — how 
does he pass his time 1— what does he purpose doing V 

" What does he do ? Why, while we go in search of 
gold, he goes with the Indians on their hunting parties, 
and even on the war-trail. He knows medicine, and cures 
the sick ; he also teaches the young children, and such of 
the warriors as are willing to learn. I assure you that 
these red-skins look on him, not as a man, but as a demi- 
god; they worship him, and would shed their blood to the 
last drop in his defence. They never take any important 
step without first consulting him ; he is looked upon as 
infallible in all things, and I very much doubt if they 
would even allow us to leave, were he to refuse his consent ; 
for, on one occasion, when I wished to come into Santa 
Marta, to enjoy myself, and spend some of the piles of 
gold I had gathered, he declared that it was not safe, that 
several war-parties of the Ottomanko Indians were in the 
neighbourhood. I laughed at him, and set out to go. I 
saw him speak to some of the chiefs, and ere I had ad- 
vanced a hundred yards, several of them appeared before 
me in the path, and barred my way. I turned, thinking 
to leave the village by another road ; but the same thing 
happened as before." 

"And do you not know, then, what he thinks of doing?" 
asked Sir Edward." 

" When we inquire, and press him to know when he 
means to leave the village, he replies — 

"'Never; I like the Indians, and they like me; why, 
then, should I go, and leave these red men, whose love for 


me is true and constant, for the faithless friendship, false- 
hood, and treachery of white men 1 ' 

" When we tell him that we have amassed sufficient 
gold, and we wish to leave with it, he says only — 

" 'It is not yet time.' 

" Once I and Madroy declared that we would go. 

" ' Go,' he replied, ' and see how far in the forest you 
will travel unmolested. Besides, even if you reached 
Santa Marta in safety, do you imagine that the Spanish 
authorities would let you leave with your treasure 1 JSTo, 
my friends ; it would be confiscated to the use of King 
Philip II. of Spain.' " 

" But does he never mean to leave this country?" asked 
Sir Edward ; " and does he never mean you to leave 

" As to himself, we know nothing ; as to us, he tells us 
to go on gathering gold ; that he will show us some day 
how we may leave with our treasure, but that the time is 
not yet come. And so we are forced to wait, for without 
him we can do nothing." 

".Baron," said Sir Edward, you are about to conduct 
me to the presence of this William Warner, whom you 
talk so much about, are you not 1 " 

" Assuredly ; I have said so before." 

" Such being the case, you will be entitled to some 
reward. You are anxious to return to France, are you 
not ? " 

" Anxious ? I am mad ! I burn with desire once more 
to return — once more to be the great lord I was ; to be 
yet richer than before ; to be able to laughto scorn those 
who, in my adversity, laughed at me ! " 

" Well, Baron, what will you say if I provide you with 
the means of so doin" % " 


" What will I say ? Why, I will say that T am eter- 
nally grateful — that you are the best and nohlest man 
that ever breathed ! " 

" Well, Baron, if you perform your promise, I will pro- 
vide von with the means of returning to France." 

" And take my treasure with me ? " 

" Yes." 

The Baron de Morny appeared transported with joy. 

" Is it possible 1 " he cried ; " and you will really do 

" Assuredly ; the same vessel which brought me to 
America shall, if you please, take you back." 

" Ah ! I understand — you came to America in a 

" Well," said Sir Edward, laughing, " you don't suppose, 
do you, that I walked here 1 Yes, I came in a ship — in 
an English ship." 

" And this ship will take me and my friends, and out 
treasure, back to Europe 1 " 

"Yes, assuredly — when it returns." 

"How, when it returns'? I do not understand." 

" It is very simple, for the vessel in which I came sailed 
again this morning." 

" Gone ! and where 1 " 

" To England." 

The Baron looked deeply disappointed. 

"Gone," he said, and without yout Ah! you aie 
joking ! " 

" No, I am not joking. The vessel has gone, and it has 
gone without me, because I intend to remain here," 
" And why do you remain here 1 " 
" Because I wish to see this William Warner, of whom 
you talk so much." 

¥hb journey to the gold-mines. 203 

"You knew, then, before seeing me, that he was in this 
country 1 " 

" I learned it yesterday." 

" But the ship — the English ship , it she has sailed, 
how can she take me and my friends back to Europe 1 '' 

" She will return." 

" Ah ! I see ; and when ? " 

" In six months." 

* You are sure it will return in six months 1 " 

"As sure as I now see you before me," said Sir Edward, 
smiling at his eagerness. 

" Six months ! " said the Gascon, with a deep sigh ; 
" six months more among the red-skins ! Well, well — I 
suppose I must endure it." 

They arrived without misadventure at the pulperia 
before evening ; for Sir Edward strode on at a rapid pace, 
and his companions were forced to keep up with him. 
The Englishman wished to hire horses of the proprietor, 
and to ride on at once to the Indian village, distant about 
thirty-five miles ; but nothing could induce the Gascon to 
move. He declared that he was hungry, thirsty, and tired; 
so — though very unwillingly — Sir Edward determined to 
remain there for the night. 

Sir Edward was awake and up early in the morning, 
and did not fail to arouse the sleeping Gascon, who would 
willingly have slept for some hours more. However, on 
being told that the breakfast was prepared, and that the 
horses were waiting outside, he rose, and hastened into 
the room where the morning meal was laid out. He did 
not fail to do justice to the forest fare, and had scarcely 
finished, when Sir Edward rose, saying — 

"Come, let us pay the reckoning, and start on our 


" It seems to me," said the Baron, " that you are in » 
great hurry, my friend. Are all Englishmen as impetuous 
as you ? Here have I barely finished my meal, when you 
are red-hot to be on the road. As to what you say of 
paying, I hope you do not imagine that I should allow 
you to pay any part, while I have such heaps of treasure 
which, alas ! I have no opportunity of enjoying." 

" Oh ! as you please ; since you are so anxious to pay 
all, you are quite welcome to do so, for my part." 

Accordingly, the Baron paid the score, and they 
mounted the horses, which were in waiting for them 

" When shall I send back the horses 1 " asked the Gas- 
con, whom the proprietor of the pulperia knew well from 
his frequent journeys up and down to Santa Marta. 

" Not for two or three days, " was the reply. 

"And why not?" 

" Because to-morrow and the next day I expect some of 
the Ottamanko Indians will be in the neighbourhood ; 
and if they meet the Salhana warriors with my horsea, 
they may kill both warriors and horses together." 

"Come," said Sir Edward, impatiently, "let us push 



The llanos of South America are vast plains, sometimes 
covered with luxuriant verdure, sometimes but fields of 
shifting sand. They answer to the pampas, which are 
found still further south, and the savannahs and prairies of 


North America. At the present day, the llanos serve for 
the rearing and feeding of numberless flocks and herds, 
attended by shepherds called llaneros. At the date of this 
tale, the llanos were but vast arid deserts, peopled only by 
Indians, wolves, and panthers. "Woe to the unfortunate 
traveller who ventures to leave the buffalo-tracks, or the 
rude roads roughly cut through the desert ! Lost in these 
immense and trackless wilds, his doom is a dreadful 
one ; for he will surely perish from hunger, fatigue, and 

The horses of Sebastian Girenallo were good ones, and 
bore our travellers on at a rapid rate. After an hour's 
ride, however, they left the soft, springy turf on which 
they had been hitherto travelling, and entered on a vast 
sandy plain. Their horses sank at every step up to the 
fetlocks, so that their progress was now necessarily slow. 

" This is weary work, Baron," said the Englishman, as 
they plodded slowly on. " Have we much more of this 
detestable sand to wade through 1 " 

" No, fortunately. You see that dark spot at about a 
mile distant 1 " 

" Yes — I perceive it." 

" Well, that is an oasis. We will rest there for an hour 
during the heat of the day, and then push on again ; 
half-an-hour's ride will then bring us again into the forest, 
and we can then make good the delay which the heavy 
sand has caused us." 

They arrived at the welcome resting-place in a few 
minutes more, and dismounting from their horses, were 
glad to seek repose and shelter from the burning rays of 
the midday sun under the spreading branches of the 
abanijo trees, which here cast their welcome shade. 


Alter a rest of half an hour, which both Gideon and De 
Morny would gladly have seen prolonged, Sir Edward 
gave the signal to depart. Gideon and the Gascon rose 
reluctantly from the ground, where they had thrown 
themselves, and prepared again to mount their horses. 

The oasis was about a quarter of a mile across. In 
addition to the large trees, whose welcome shade our tra- 
vellers found so pleasant, there was abundant growth of 
brushwood, which it would have been extremely difficult 
to penetrate, had not a rough path been cleared by the 
passage of wild cattle and travellers through its centre. 
The path, such as it was, though narrow and tortuous, 
was sufficiently good for them to make their way through 
without going forth into the sandy plain, and making 
their way round the little island in the desert. 

Sir Edward Dudley mounted his horse, and urged him 
ahead as fast as the nature of the road would permit. He 
had arrived at about the centre of the oasis, and was look- 
ing out for the open space on the other side, when sud- 
denly, without warning, a figure darted from the thick 
obscurity of the brushwood, and stood right before him in 
the path. The horse stopped instantly, and reared up in 
alarm. The figure was that of an Indian, and Sir Edward 
recognized at once his enemy of the day before — the 
Creeping Snake. The Englishman instantly drew a pistol 
from his belt, for, remembering the affair of the day be- 
fore, he liked not this second appearance of the savage in 
his path. 

Gideon and De Morny, seeing their leader stop so sud- 
denly, urged on their horses to see the cause. Gideon 
gave a cry of astonishment, for he recognized the red-skin 
as well as his master. He, however, felt no alarm ; for 



ne reasoned justly — if six of them failed so signally in an 
attack on three but the day before, surely one would have 
no chance against the same number. 

Meanwhile the Indian, without the slightest appearance 
of inquietude at the pistol which Sir Edward held ready 
cocked in his hand, or at the other two pale-faces who had 
come up, stood his ground, looking Sir Edward in the face 
with a smile of insolent mockery. 

" Ah ! " growled Gideon, " it is that ugly dog of an 
Indian that you would not let me throttle yesterday, 
master. Let me now complete my work ; for it seems 
that he has not yet learnt wisdom, but means to dispute 
our way." 

Sir Edward made a sign for his servant to be silent. 
The Indian still stood with folded arms right in the path 
oi the white men. 

" What does my red brother want 1 " asked Sir Ed- 
ward, in Spanish. " I thought we proved sufficiently yes- 
terday that it was a dangerous thing to interfere with the 
pale-face warriors. Why, then, does the red-skin again 
stand in my path ? " 

The Indian, not moving an inch from his position, re- 
plied calmly — 

" It is true that my brother the white warrior is strong 
— I have not forgotten it ; but is it a reason, because the 
pale-faces yesterday killed five of my warriors, that to-day 
I should be forbidden to walk abroad in the prairie, which 
the Great Spirit has given to the red man for a dwelling- 
place 1 " 

" Assuredly not," replied the other. " My brother has 
a right to walk where he pleases ; but he has no right to 
«tand in my path, or to prevent my doing the same. I 


have no time to stay here talking, so stand on one sid*\, 
and let me pass." 

These words were said fimly, but without rudeness} 
still the red-skin did not move. 

"Is it permitted for the Ottamanko warrior to ask 
where the pale-faces are going ? " he said, in the same 
tone of ironical composure. 

Sir Edward looked at the Indian, as if seeking to divine 
his reason for a Jung such a question. 

" We are going to the village of the Salhanas," he re- 
plied, at last, unable to read anything in the stolid counte- 
nance of the savage. " Are the Ottamankos at war with 
the Salhanas ] " 

" Then perhaps the Creeping Snake wishes to send a 
message to the Salhana village 1 If it be so, let him 
speak ; I will safely deliver it. Is it so 1 " 

" Perhaps," said the Indian, with the same impertur- 
bable gravity. 

The Indian retired slightly, as if to give passage to the 
white men ; but at the instant, when Sir Edward, shaking 
his horse's bridle, was about to pass on, he suddenly 
raised his hand to his mouth, and gave a slight screech 
like that of an owl. Instantly a number of half-naked 
savages bounded forth from the brushwood on every 
side, and threw themselves on the three travellers, 
There were at least fifty of them ; and, even had there 
have been time, resistance would have been madness. 




The two Englishmen and the Gascon were overpowered at 
once, and dragged forcibly from their horses. Gideon, in- 
deed, drew his knife at the first attack of the savages ; but 
his master seeing the act, and knowing its utter folly, 
shouted to him to desist, and to surrender quietly. Gideon 
grumblingly complied ; and it was well that he did so, or 
his life would doubtless have paid the immediate forfeit. As 
for the Baron de Morny, he made not the slightest attempt 
at resistance ; for, in the first place, he was unarmed, and 
in the second, had he been armed to the teeth, he was far 
too much frightened. 

And now the Creeping Snake, in whose villanous coun- 
tenance there sat an expression of malicious triumph, made 
a sign to the savages who had seized Sir Edward Dudley. 
In obedience to that sign, they dragged him before the 
Ottamanko chief, who surveyed him with a sinister, ironical 

" And now what says the pale-face? Is not the Creep- 
ing Snake a great warrior 1 He swore yesterday to avenge 
his warriors who were slain by the pale-faces, and to-day 
the pale-faces are his prisoners." 

Sir Edward shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. 

" Yesterday," he said, " you were only six to three ; 
to-day you are fifty to three. If the Creeping Snake takes 
glory to himself for such a victory, let him do so ; the 
white warriors would regard it with shame." 

Tiie Ottamanko chief felt the full force of this rebuke, 
although he did not acknowledge it. 



"The pale-faces were wise," he contimied, "in not offer 
ing to resist ; for, thanks to that prudence, they will have 
some few hours longer to live." 

" We are in your power," said Sir Edward, defiantly ; 
"do with us as you choose. You can, if you like, murder 
us treacherously, or let us free ; but, be assured that, if 
you do kill us, we shall be terribly avenged. Dog of a 
red-skin ! I defy you — do your worst !" 

" Dog of a red-skin ! I defy you — do your worst ! " re- 
peated Gideon after his master; then, in an under-tone, he 
growled : " and that worst would not be much harm if I 
had you alone, or two or three of you, you ugly hounds ! 
But fifty — bah ! it is too many." 

The bold demeanour of the two Englishmen provoked 
a murmur of admiration among the Indians ; even the 
Creeping Snake himself regarded these men with some- 
what of admiration, and with somewhat less of hatred. 

" Decidedly," he said, " the white warriors are brave — 
they know how to die ; the Great Spirit will receive them 
with honour when they present themselves before him." 

Meantime, the poor Baron de Morny resembled all the 
while a ghost, he was so deathly pale. Looking at him, a 
thought suddenly struck Sir Edwin Dudley ; he resolved 
to act upon it. 

" Creeping Snake," he said, in a bold, defiant voice, to 
the red chief, " we are ready — my servant and I — to die ; 
we scorn to ask our lives of such as you. But if we are to 
die because we yesterday killed five of your warriors, that 
is no reason why our companion here should also die, who 
has never injured any of you. He has never shed a drop of 
blood of any of your tribe ; why, then, do you keep him 
prisoner with us 1 " 

As ne spoke, he pointed to the Gascon, who still re- 


tnained the very picture of terror. The Indian looked 
with contempt on the white face and trembling limbs of 
the Baron. 

'" This man was not with you yesterday ; who is he, 
then 1 " 

"He is a friend of the Salhanas," replied Sir Edward. 

"The Salhanas are brave warriors," said the Indian; 
'* they have not cowards for friends. It cannot be." 

" Be it so. That pale-face has not, perhaps, a valiant 
heart ; but, I repeat to you, that for more than a year he 
has lived in the village of the Salhanas. The Creeping 
Snake is a great w r arrior ; he does not crush a bruised 
flower. He will, then, let the pale-face return to the 
village of the Salhanas; and when we die — my companion 
and I — we will sing the praises of the Ottamanko warriors, 
who spared the feeble, and struck the strong." 

The Creeping Snake could not but do homage in his 
heart to the bravery of his prisoner, and feel flattered at 
the same time by this appeal to his generosity. It is pos- 
sible, also, that he had some secret reason for complying 
with this request of the white man. Be that as it may, 
after a minute's reflection, he said — 

" The Creeping Snake will grant the wish of the pale- 

Then, at a gesture from their chief, the Indians who 
held the Gascon loosed him, and left him free. 

"You are free, Baron," said Sir Edward to the Gascon, 
" I have explained to the Ottamanko chief, in Spanish, 
that you have never injured any of his tribe, and that you 
are a friend of the Salhanas." 

"Eree?" cried the Gascon, scarcely able to realize the 
joyful news. 


'• Yes, you are free ; but you only, for we are still pri- 

" Ah ! it is you, then, whom they desired to capture 
What will they do with you 1 ' ' 

" Indeed, I do not know ; but what you have to do is 
to leave this at once, and make all haste to the village of 
the Salhanas." 

" And you 1 " 

" Well, we will join you as soon as we can. When you 
arrive at the village of the Salhanas, tell this William 
Warner that we are prisoners in the hands of the Otta- 
mankos ; say Sir Edward Dudley, and Gideon Glossop, 
his servant. So now mount your horse, and use all 

"But you? — when shall we see you again?" 

" Have I not told you that we will join you, if we can 
get away from these savages ?" 

" But, if you cannot get away ? — what are they about to 
do with you ?" 

" What is that to you ? " said Sir Edward, not wishing 
to tell him that they were doomed to death. 

" How — what is it to me ? " and the Gaston coloured 
up at the thought of thus leaving the men who had 
defended him with their swords but the day before ; for, 
in spite of all, the Baron, though somewhat timid, had not 
a bad heart. "Ah !" he cried, "for what do you take me, 
my friend? Do you think that I will leave you— will 
desert you to die alone ? For, although I know but little 
Spanish, I gather that these savages mean to kill you. 
No ; decidedly I will not go — I will stay and share your 

Sir Edward took the hand of the poor Gascon, and 


" Baron, you have a brave heart." 

"A brave heart— yes," muttered de Moray, "but in a 
timid body." 

" Now listen to me. I appreciate and thank you for 
your devotion, in wishing to share our fate ; but it can- 
not be. Our only hope of safety rests in your being able, 
to reach the Salhana village in time. JSTow haste ; for if 
you stay, you do but doom us, as well as yourself, to cer- 
tain death." 

The Baron hesitated for another second, and then leaped 
on his horse. 

" So be it, Sir Edward. I go, but I swear that if I 
thought I could benefit you by staying, I would do so. 
Adieu ; I will be in the village of the Salhanas in little 
more than two hours' time. Adieu ! " 

Then the Baron struck spurs into his horse's flanks, and 
disappeared from their sight. 



The Ottamanko village was situated at the extreme verge 
of the llanos, at a distance of about three miles, and in a 
direction diametrically opposite to that which our travel- 
lers were pursuing when seized by their enemies. Two 
warriors, mounted on their horses, rode forward to the 
village, to announce the important capture ; and the pri- 
soners were met outside the village by the whole of the 
tribe, old women and children. With loud shouts, yells, 
and taunts, these clustered about Sir Edward and Gideon, 
even oing so far as to strike and throw stones in their 


faces. Arrived at the village, the Creeping Stake was 
joined by other warriors, whose dignity did not suffer them 
to accompany the women and children to meet the cap- 
tives.. The chief remained for a few moments in conver- 
sation with these, and then made a sign, at which the 
uproar and chorus of yells ceased, and the women, children, 
and old men returned to their wigwams, leaving only four 
warriors to guard the prisoners. Meanwhile, the Creeping 
Snake seated himself, and the other warriors, following 
bis example, also seated themselves in a circle round him. 

"Ah ! ah ! " said Gideon. " See, master, they are sitting 
down ; they feel fatigued, doubtless, after their great victory 
— a victory of fifty over two." 

" No," said Sir Edward ; " they are not fatigued— they 
are about to hold a council. They are about to bring us 
to trial and to pronounce sentence on us." 

" To bring us to trial ! " grumbled Gideon. " Pretty 
judges, forsooth ! Where are their wigs and gowns, the 
bald-headed savages 1 A curse on them ! I would 1 had 
my hands free, and a stout staff— how soon would I knock 
some of their heads about for them !" 

" Silence, Gideon ! we are about to be questioned." 

The Creeping Snake, seated in the centre of the circle of 
warriors, had made a sign to their guards to bring forward 
the prisoners. Then the Creeping Snake, addressing them, 
said — ■ 

" My brothers remember that, on the day before yester- 
day, they fought with and killed five of the Ottamanko 

" The red-skin warrior is right," said Sir Edward, boldly. 
" Why should I deny it 1 I and my friends were lost in 
the forest ; we met the Creeping Snake and his braves. 
We asked them to direct us. They promised to do so, but 


instead of keeping good faith, they watched their oppor- 
tunity, and treacherously attacked us. My brother knows 
the result. Five of the Ottamanko warriors have gone to 
the Great Spirit ; and the Creeping Snake himself would 
have died also, had it not have been for my mercy. Aye, 
red-skin dog — my mercy ! For the Great Spirit had 
delivered you into our hands ; but we scorned to destroy 
an enemy unworthy of brave men." 

A silence succeeded these audacious words. The Indians 
gazed with anger, not unmixed with wonder and admir- 
ation, on the speaker who thus defied and insulted them. 
Then an old warrior spoke. 

" The Ottamanko Indians are at war with the Spaniards," 
he said, " therefore it is right that they should attack and 
6lay them on every opportunity." 

" I have before said that we are not Spaniards," replied 
Sir Edward, boldly. " We arc Englishmen, and have 
never injured the Ottamankos, nor do we wish so to do ; 
but the Ottamankos treacherously attacked us — six red- 
skins to three whites ; and the whites, with the aid of the 
Great Spirit, slew the red men, and made their chief 

"So be it," said the Indian, bowing his head solemnly, 
" The pale-faces spilled the blood of five Indian war- 
riors " 

"In self-defence," was the reply. "Does my father, 
then, think it a crime for us to defend our lives when 
attacked 1 But what need to say more on the subject ? 
We are your prisoners, my servant and I — we are in your 
power ; and it is easy, if it so please you, for you to slay 
US. Let the Ottamanko warriors do as seems them 
best ; we do not fear them — we defy them to their worst. 
Only I warn them of this, that if they injure a hair of our 


beads, a terrible retribution will fall on them — a vengeance 
which shall be remembered with fear and trembling by 
their children's children." 

The Indians exchanged glances of surprise. 

" Of what terrible vengeance do my brothers speak 1 " 
asked one of them. 

" I have spoken — it is enough ; let the red-skins do as 
they please. ' 

" Ah ! " said the Creeping Snake, with a grunt, " I 
know on what the pale-faces count. They know there are 
some Europeans who have dwelt in the village of the 
Salhanas for more than twelve moons. The pale-faces 
think to have their succour ; and if they arrive after they 
are dead, they think to be avenged by them. It was to 
go to the village of the Salhanas, and ask their aid, 
that my brother prayed for the liberty of his companion, 
whom we have allowed to depart. Who knows 1 — per- 
haps the pale-face hopes that even now his white friends 
and the Salhana Indians are on the war-trail to free bim. 
If the pale-faces think that that can save them, they are 
mistaken. They have shed the blood of five Indian war- 
riors, and they shall die — they shall die at sunrise to- 
morrow morning. I have said it." 

The Creeping Snake looked round the assemblage of 
warriors at these words ; each one signified his assent by 
a grunt and a nod of the head. Sir Edward felt that 
their doom was sealed; nevertheless, his heart did not fail 
him. He replied to the Indian's threat only by a glance 
of defiance and scorn. 

"Master," asked Gideon, "what do they say V 

" They say, my poor Gideon," replied Sir Edward, 
sadly, " that we are both of us to die at sunrise to-morrow. 
They know that we have friends in the village of the 


Salhanas, and they know that the Baron de Morny has 
gone to ask their assistance ; therefore, knowing this. 
they will be prepared, and we must expect to die to- 

" To die to-morrow ! " muttered Gideon. " We'll, mas- 
ter, since we must die, let us kill as many as we can of 
these vermin, and meet our deaths fighting like men. I 
can burst my bonds, and seize tomahawks for myself and 
you. Say the word, and it is done. I will wager that I 
dash out a few of their brains ere they secure me ; and 
you, Sir Edward, unless your hand has lost its cunning, 
can give good account of some. What say you, master 1 
Give the word." 

Gideon had partly freed his hands, and with one tre- 
mendous effort he felt sure he could bur. ei -he remaining 
bonds. To seize a couple of tomahawks from the guards, 
who were utterly unsuspicious, would have been easy, and 
doubtless more than one red-skin would bite the dust ; 
but to escape, surrounded as they were by seventy or 
eighty armed savages, was impossible. Sir Edward shook 
his head. 

"2fo, Gideon," he said; "let us watch and wait. Some 
chance may turn up ; and if the worst comes to the worst, 
we can reserve our struggle to the last." 

The Creeping Snake said some words to their guards in 
the Indian tongue ; then Gideon and his master were led 
off to a distance of about a hundred yards, and securely 
bound to two trees by cords made of a species of grass 
twisted. They were bound each to a tree, facing each 
other, at a distance of only a few paces, so that they could 
easily converse. 

Gideon laughed grimly, as the Indians proceeded to 
bind him with their grass ropes. 


" Aha ! " he growled out, " bind me tight, you red apes, 
you — bind me tight, or, by all the saints in the calendar, 
I'll get away ! Master," he added, with a chuckle, " I can 
break these grass ropes like a piece of whipcord. You give 
the word, and I am free. Bah ! the fools, to think that 
such flimsy gear as this would hold me ! " And Gideon 
glanced disdainfully at the bonds with which the Indians 
secured him. 

Sir Edward gave an exclamation of delight. He knew 
his servant's gigantic strength, but did not imagine that it 
was sufficient to break the many coils of rope with which 
they were binding him. 

" Gideon, are you sure you can free yourself? For if 
you can, I have an idea." 

" Am I sure 1 Yes, master — quite sure. If I do not 
burst every one of these like a piece of packthread, I am 
willing to forfeit a year's wages." 

"My poor Gideon," replied Sir Edward, unable to 
control a -smile, " I fear me much, that if you try, and 
fail, you will never need cither wages, clothes, or food 

" Pest ! master, you are right ; I had forgotten that. 
No matter — I can do it." 



The two prisoners remained quiet until night closed around 
them. Pour Indians stood, one on each side of the cap- 
tives, to guard against even the chance of escape. Sir 
Edward Dudley remained plunged in thought; he was 


revolving a plan of escape. Gideon passed the time away- 
whistling, grumbling to himself, and swearing at the 
Indians, who understood not a word. 

" Ah ! you red thieves," he muttered ; " just wait awhile, 
till my master gives the word. See how I will crack your 
bald heads for you ! " 

It was now long past midnight ; Sir Edward guessed it 
to he about two o'clock in the morning. The sun rose at 
four, and then they were to die. Vainly and anxiously 
he watched and listened for any sign of the approach of 
lescue ; no sound broke the stillness of the forest. 

The four sentinels stood statue-like by their side. 
Already in the east he could discover the first faint signs 
of the coming day. 

Another half-hour passed on, and the prisoners could 
discern signs of life and motion in the Indian village. 
First the women might be seen moving about, then 
fires were lighted one by one, and then the warriors began 
to issue from their wigwams. In another half-hour it is 
broad daylight, and the Creeping Snake himself issues 
from his wigwam, and joins a group of warriors who are 
evidently awaiting him. 

Sir Edward Dudley saw that the time had come to do 
or die. Already he could see a party of savages busy 
erecting a stake in the centre of the camp. To that stake 
they were to be bound, and there they would meet their 

" Gideon ! " said Sir Edward, in a low voice. 

"Yes, master." 

"Are you sure you can do as you said 1 " 

" Give but the word, and it is done," was the reply, 

"Well, now listen to me." 

" Master, I am all attention." 


" You must pretend that the cords hurt you — do you 
understand 1 " 

" Pretend that the cords hurt me ! Pest, master ! there 
is no need for pretence. My curses on them — they cut 
right into my flesh ! " 

" Well, you must cry out." 

" Cry out 1 Oh, yes — assuredly I will cry out, if you 
wish it ; hut what is the good 1 " 

" Listen, and I will explain. You must cry out. and 
beg of them to come and loosen your bonds. Do you 
see 1 " 

"Yes, master." 

" Perhaps they will do so, perhaps they will not ; at all 
events, it is probable that they will approach to examine 
the cause of your outcry." 

"Ah! yes — I begin to see. They will come near me." 

"And then," said Sir Edward, "you will burst your 
bonds, throw yourself upon them, seize their tomahawks, 
and, if possible, free me ; for my strength is not like yours, 
Gideon. If you are unable to do so, however, make your 
own escape as best you can." 

" What, and leave you here, master ? Kbt if I know 

" Well, well, good Gideon — you are a true and faithfuf 
fellow. Do the best you can ; and God have mercy on us, 
for we are, indeed, in a sore strait." 

There was a moment's silence, and then the forest 
echoes were awakened by hideous howls, apparently of 
pain, which proceeded from the great chest of Gideon. 
The Indians gazed in astonishment and distrust. These 
howls of pain were so sudden, that they feared some trap. 

" Oh — ho — ho — ho ! " roared the Cornishman. 

The Creeping Snake approached from the village. But 


ho was not alone ; another warrior, of gigantic stature, 
accompanied him. His name was Wah-a-dah, or the 
" Big Bison." 

The Creeping Snake and this latter approached the two 

" Humph!" said the former, grunting gutturally; "the 
pale-faces know how to cry. They are afraid of death." 

A gleam of satisfaction was on his tawny features, for 
nothing so pleases an Indian warrior as to succeed in 
forcing cries of fear or pain from his enemies. Still, he 
was somewhat doubtful of the genuineness of these cries, 
and approached to examine as to the cause. 

" What is the reason that the white man howls like the 
wolf of the prairies 1 Is he afraid to die ? " 

Gideon redoubled his outcries. 

" My servant is in pain," said Sir Edward ; "the cords 
hurt his flesh. The Creeping Snake is a great warrior ; he 
cannot wish to torture a prisoner who is soon to die. The 
Great Spirit looks angrily on such a deed." 

The Creeping Snake, still suspicious, made a sign for 
the two Indians who acted as guards to approach and exa- 
mine the cord 8. The savages advanced towards Gideon, 
one on each side. They saw that really the cords had 
been bound so tight as to bury themselves in the flesh. 
In the Indian tongue they told this to the chief, who in 
a few guttural words directed them to ease the bonds. 
To do this, one of them bent down on each side of the 
Cornishman. This was the opportunity for which Gideon 
was waiting. With one tremendous effort of Iris Hercu- 
lean strength he burst all the grass-ropes at once. It was 
the work of a single second. Then, ere the astonished 
savages could even recover from their stooping posture, he 
seized one in each hand by the solitary scalp-lock on the 


head ; then, first throwing them apart at arm's length, he 
brought their heads together with a terrible crash, lite- 
rally crushing them like nut-shells. The savages fell with 
but one groan. Gideon, snatching their two tomahawks, 
bounded towards his master. A few blows severed the 
bonds which held him, and he also was free. 

Gideon handed one of the tomahawks to Sir Edward, 
and master and servant threw themselves furiously on the 
two remaining Indians. The struggle was short, for, taken 
by surprise, and confounded by the sudden release of their 
prisoners, and their no less sudden and vigorous attack, 
they were at a disadvantage. Soon each of the two were 
stretched bleeding on the ground. Not a moment too 
soon, however ; for the Creeping Snake and the Big Eison 
giving the Ottamanko war-cry, rushed on the white men. 
The Big Bison attacked Gideon, while the Creeping Snake 
selected his master as his antagonist. 

Gideon parried the first tremendous blow dealt at him 
by the Big Bison, and then, rushing underneath his guard, 
pinned him by the throat. This was a favourite ma- 
in louvre of the Cornishman's, and seldom failed to be suc- 
cessful ; for once let him get a fair grip, and his enormous 
strength made short Avork of his antagonist. 

Meanwhile, Sir Edward succeeded in warding off the 
blows of the Creeping Snake, and inflicting a severe 
wound on his shoulder. But now, aroused by the war- 
cry, the whole of the warriors from the village came rush- 
ing to the assistance of the two chiefs. Gideon had just 
succeeded in wrenching away the knife which the Big 
Bison had drawn, when they were upon him. Sir Edward, 
too, had dashed the tomahawk from the hand of the 
Creeping Snake, and, bounding forward, was on the point 
of cleaving his skull open, when an Indian attacked him 


from behind, wounding him severely in the arm. He had 
but just time to turn and defend himself against this new 
adversary, when several more were upon him. 

" Courage, master — courage ! " shouted the faithful 
Gideon, dashing among his foes, and doing fearful execu- 

Already three had fallen beneath his ponderous swinging 
blow. Alas, however! the brave Cornishman did not 
himself escape. His foes were so .numerous, that it was 
impossible to guard against all their weapons. Wounded 
in several places, he still fought on desperately, panting 
and roaring like a bull at bay. The deadly tomahawks 
crashed and rattled one against the other as the unequal 
contest went on. Now the poor Cornishman is surrounded 
on all sides. In vain he dashes forward, and strikes down 
one of his enemies ; others press around, and deal deadly 
blows at his head and body from behind and on all sides. 
Fainting with loss of blood, he ntill fights desperately on, 
and, even in his last dire extremity thinking of his mas- 
ter, shouts forth words of encouragement, when each mo- 
ment brings him nearer to certain death. 

Meanwhile, Sir Edward, - his back against a tree, defends 
himself with desperate resolution against the unequal 
odds. With the energy and fury of despair he fights 
desperately on, resolved to sell his life dearly. He, like 
Gideon, is almost overpowered by numbers. One — two 
■ — three have fallen before him ; but to what avail 1 
Others supply their places, and, faint with loss of blood, 
his rrm weary Avith the continued exertion, it is evident 
that all must soon be over. Master and servant are 
streaming with blood, and see keep their feet by no- 

thing short of a miracle, 

Gideon is the first to stagger and ML With one last 


desperate effort, however, he recovers himself, and, with 
tremendous yell of rage and despair, he once more leaps to 
his feet, and another savage goes down with cloven skull. 
The next moment his master is beaten down on one knee. 
His strength fails him — his eye-sight grows dim. The 
savages, with a howl of triumph, are on the point of over- 
whelming him ; when a loud shout from the woods in 
their rear answers the last despairing cry of Gideon ; 
instantly succeeding it there is heard the report of fire- 
Bang ! 

The next moment eight more of the Indians are welter- 
ing in their blood. Another shout of defiance from the 

The Ottamankos pause and look aghast at the bodies of 
the eight warriors laid low by that close and deadly dis- 

Once again comes the report of fire-arms. 
Bang ! 

The leaden hail whistles among them, and eight more 
of the Ottamanko braves are writhing in the agonies of 
death. Then there follows a .sound which they all know 
well — 

The war-whoop of the Salhanas ! 

" Saved — saved ! " shouted Sir Edward, leaping to his 
feet, and again with renewed life dashing at his foes. 
" Gideon, where are you ? " 

"Here am I, master," was the reply, in a voice husky 
from the terrible exertion he had undergone. 

Master and servant now again prepared to do battle for 
their lives. But there was no need for it. Another war- 
whoop made the woods ring, and a party of Indians and 
wnite men dashed from the -woods, and rushed towards 


the Ottamankos. These latter did not wait to receive the. 
attack. Some three or four-and-twenty of their warriors 
dead, and many more wounded, they were disheartened and 
terrified, and took to precipitate flight. One more dis- 
charge into the midst of their flying ranks, and the battle 
was fought out and won ; for there was no enemy left on 
the field hut the dead and dying, j 

We need scarcely say who were the welcome deliverers. 
Informed by the Baron De Morny of the capture and im- 
minent danger of Sir Edward and Gideon, the four white 
men, accompanied by some twenty Salhana Indians, 
hastened to the rescue. 

De Morny and his friend Madroy hastened to attend to 
the wounds of Sir Edward Dudley. None of them were 
serious, fortunately, although he was nigh fainting from 
his loss of blood. His wounds were soon bound up, and 
a draught of wine somewhat reanimated him, and he was 
enabled to walk without assistance. 

Gideon, too, although much more severely hurt, also 
declared himself as well as ever, and boasted that it would 
have been all right, even if succour had not arrrived. It 
was only a question of time, he said ; in a few more 
minutes he would have put all those naked savages to 
flight. Only a question of time, indeed ! but it was a 
question of how many minutes the two brave Englishmen 
had to live ; for assuredly their doom was sealed but for 
the timely aid, although Gideon would not allow it. 

" Where is this William Warner you speak of ? " asked 
Sir Edward of De Morny, when he was somewhat reco- 

De Morny looked round, but could not at first see him. 

" Pest ! " he muttered ; " I thought the fellow would 
have gone mad with impatience when he heard you wer« 



prisoners ; and now that the work is done, and all is well, 
he has disappeared." 

Suddenly, however, the Gascon espied him leaning 
against a tree in the forest. 

" Ah ! there he is — I see him ! " 

" Assist me, then, my good Baron ; lend me your arm 
— I wish to speak with him." 

Then, assisted by the Gascon, Sir Edward tottered 
slowly and painfully towards the tree against which leaned 
"William Warner. And now they are face to face. 

"Brother— Eohert Dudley," said Sir Edward, with 
faltering voice, " do you not know me ? " 

" I know you, Sir Edward Dudley," said the other, in 
a severe voice ; " I know you too well. You are my elder 
brother. What want you with me 1 You robbed me of 
my love, and sought to rob me of my life — what more do 
you want 1 " 

These words were said in a tone of bitter reproach. 
Sir Edward Dudley turned very pale, and leaned against 
his companion for support. There was no wound visible 
on his head or face ; the blood had been all wiped away, 
and the wounds on his body were also not apparent. 

" What ails him 1 " asked Eobert Dudley of De Morny, 
seeing the sudden pallor of his brother. 

" What ails him 1 — why, he is wounded and faint. 
Stay a moment — I will give him wine from my flask." 

At hearing that his brother was wounded, a flush of 
shame came over the handsome features of Eobert Dudley; 
he remembered how they had played together as boys at 
their mother's knee,' how they had knelt together as men 
at their father's death-bed. A rush of old memories and 
associations overwhelmed him ; for one moment he paused 
irresolute. Meanwhile, De Morny had administered a 



draught of wine, which effectually revived the wounded 
man ; the colour came again to his cheek, and he turned 
sadly and slowly away. 

" Edward," said Eohert Dudley, calling him back. 

He turned and looked, waiting for the other to speak. 
Robert Dudley paused for one more moment. Again the 
old memories and associations came over him ; he saw 
before him his brother— a brother who, it is true, had 
bitterly wronged him, but still a brother — he saw him 
before him pale, sad, wounded, and faint. Then his proud 
spirit gave way. 

"Edward!" he said, opening his arms, "brother — all 
is forgotten and forgiven ! " 

The next moment the two brothers were locked in each 
other's arms. 



It was not safe to remain longer near the Ottamanko 
camp ; for, although they had been put to flight, they 
migbt return in increased numbers. Accordingly, the 
whole party started back for the village of the Salhanas. 
Two horses had been brought with them, and the two 
wounded men were mounted on these. In the course of 
a few hours they arrived safely at the Salhana encamp- 

" Welcome, brother, to our home," said Robert Dudley, 
assisting Sir Edward to dismount. " Come to my hut 
You need repose, and your wounds must be seen to ; then, 
to-morrow I promise you I will show you some wonders. 


" Stay," Sir Edward Dudley, '• let me first thank these 
gentlemen, who so gallantly came to our assistance." 

Sir Edward thanked each in turn — Madroy, De Brissac, 
and the valiant Gascon ; nor did he forget to express his 
gratitude to their Indian allies. The white men cordially 
shook his hand, and congratulated him on his escape, 
while the Indians acknowledged his thanks by merely 
bending their heads in silence. Then Robert Dudley con- 
ducted his brother to his hut, and pointed out to him his 
couch. This was a bed of dried grass, simply covered by 
the skin of a puma ; but, tired and weary as he was, no 
bed of down was ever so grateful as was this primitive 
couch. He slept all the remainder of that day and night, 
and awoke on the following morning so much refreshed, 
that he declared himself as well as ever. Fortunately 
none of his wounds were dangerous, and all ware progress- 
ing favourably. 

" And now let us talk of the future," said Kobert, "We 
are once again friends — let us return to our country 
together ; there are yet long days of happiness in store for 
us. The sight of the old hall, the old park, and the old 
woods and forests in which we used to hunt together, will 
be welcome to our eyes. Everything will doubtless be the 
same. Let us think of the past five years as a dream. Let 
us imagine that we went to sleep, and dreamed of all the 
perils, hardships, and miseries we have undergone ; let 


Suddenly he checked himself ; lie thought of Eva, and 
the memory made him turn first red and then pale. Sir 
Edward divined his thoughts, but said nothing. It was 
too embarrassing a subject for them to discuss yet. 

" Eobert, I cannot return to England yet." 

' ; You cannot return ! and why V 


"Because I have promised to meet a young friend of 
mine, a brave and gallant young Englishman. I came 
to this country in his ship. He has been foully and 
cruelly wronged by these treacherous Spaniards, and I have 
sworn to stay with him, and exact a terrible vengeance." 

" And where is he, this friend of yours 1 " 

" He has gone to England, but will return with a vessel 
of war and a numerous crew; then he proposes to wage 
an eternal war against the Spaniards. Oh ! believe me, 
brother, this young man will some day be great and 
powerful. His name is Erancis Drake, and it is written 
that he shall succeed ; he is born under a star which will 
not suffer him to fail, even if he wished so to do." 

"Tell me all about this Francis Drake — you interest 

"Then Sir Edward proceeded to relate to his brother 
the history of his acquaintance with the young captain — 
how he came to his aid at Margate, and how, taking a 
strange fancy to him, he furnished him with the means to 
equip and freight a vessel to the New World. He told 
how shamefully and treacherously he had been plundered 
by Don Placido, and his cargo confiscated. Lastly, with 
flashing eye, he told of the abduction of poor little Amy 
When he had concluded his narration, Eobert said — 

"You are right, brother — such infamy deserves to b 
punished. Not only do I approve of your resolution, bu 
I will myself return to aid you." 

" You, Eobert . — you after five years' absence from your 
native land, you will again expose yourself to perils and 
dangers 1 " 

" Will I !— will I not ? Why should I not ? What is 
life without excitement — without adventure 1 Where 
have you appointed to meet this Captain Drake 1 " 


" At the Island of Trinidad." 

"And when?" 

Sir Edward Dudley told him the appointed day. 

■' Good — I will be there also. And now let us get out 
breakfasts, for I have a little journey to propose after- 

Accordingly, the two brothers left the hut, and sought a 
large building in the centre of the village. This was used 
by the whites as a dining-room, and a long table and a 
bench ran down the centre. Here they found Madroy, De 
Brissac, and De Morny, who were awaiting them. After 
the repast had been finished, Eobert DudLiy, who had 
hitherto been known by his friends as William Warner, 
addressed them : — 

" Messieurs Madroy, De Morny, and De Brissac, I have 
a little journey to propose." 

" A journey ! " they cried in surprise ; " and whither 1" 

" No matter ; that you shall know when you arrive 
there. You are all rich, are you not?" continued Eobert 
Dudley to them. 

" Yes," grumbled De Morny, " we are rich in one 
sense, for we have plenty of gold. But of what use to us 
is gold ? We might as well be in prison as here ; for we 
have no opportunity of enjoying our wealth." 

" All in good time, Baron," said Robert Dudley, smiling 
"all in good time. You have hitherto known me as 
William Warner, the Cape Breton fisherman ; you are 
now to know me as Eobert Dudley, an English gentle- 
man. As William Warner I always kept my word, did I 
not ?" 

"Undoubtedly," they all cried. "Without you we should 
have been all lo3t." 

" Then I will not fail likewise to keep my word now. 


T will provide you with the means of returning to France 
with your treasure ; in return, I ask of you something." 

"Name it !" they all cried in a breath. 

" I go also to Europe; but I shall return again. I wish 
you, my friends, to return with me. "We have been com- 
panions so long, that I should be loath now to part com- 
pany. Let us, then, be a band of brothers, and seek 
adventure and glory all over the world. I promise you 
plenty of profit, plenty of honour, plenty of pleasure, and 
plenty of danger." 

"Ma foil" said De Morny, twirling his moustache. 
* I like pleasure and danger also, therefore I for one am 
disposed to accept your offer." 

" But I have yet another reason," said Eobert Dudley, 
" foi wishing you to return with me. My brother — our 
friend here, Sir Edward Dudley — has a deadly feud on 
hand. He and a friend, one Captain Francis Drake, have 
sworn eternal enmity against the Spaniards. They have 
bitterly outraged and wronged him, and he will take a re- 
venge which shall ring to the four corners of the world. His 
friend has gone to England, and will return with an armed 
vessel, an English frigate, with abundance of guns, arms, 
and men. I also am going to England, and shall return 
with a ship, with arms, with men. What say you, my 
friends — will you return with me % " 

" We will ! " they all cried. 

" Good ; and now let us start on our journey, for I 
warrant I have something in store which will astonish 

Horses were brought, and the five white men mounted, 
and prepared to set out for their journey. Gideon Glos- 
sop and the chief of the Salhanas also accompanied them. 
The latter — no other than the Falling Eain himself— alone 


seemed in the secret with Robert as to their destination. 
He and Robert led the way, and the party struck into a 
road through the forest which led to the westward. After 
a couple oi hours' ride, they arrived at the foot of a moun- 
tain range. It was too steep for them to ride up, so they 
dismounted, and leaving Gideon with the horses, followed 
the Falling Rain, and commenced the ascent. In the 
course o\ half an hour they came to a gorge or gully, 
which a oataract or stream had worn in the side of the 
mountain. A little further on, they found themselves on 
a small plateau or fiat leilgi-. about twenty feet wide. 
From this ledge the mountain ascended perpendicularly, 
so that they were at a loss to know how they were to pro- 
ceed further. This, however, was not the intention of 
Robert and the Falling Rain; for, in place of seeking for a 
path, the Indian struck a light with a flint and steel, and 
lit two torches of resinous wood which he had brought 
with him. He and Robert then advanced to a pile of 
immense rocks at the foot of the perpendicular rise of the 
mountain, and commenced rolling them away. At last 
they perceived an aperture, just sufficiently large to admit 
of a man's body. The Indian, taking the two torches, 
crawled through this opening, and disappeared. Robert 
beckoned to the others, and followed him. The others did 
likewise, and found themselves crawling on their hands 
and knees down a narrow sort of tunnel, which seemed 
to lead right into the interior of the mountain. The pas- 
sage was not more than three feet high, and being also 
exceedingly narrow, they had great difficulty in forcing 
their way along. After some ten minutes' toil, however, 
it gradually got wider and loftier; and all at once they 
found themselves in a small cavern or grotto, about ten 
feet in height, and thirty in circumference. They raised 


themselves to their feet, and looked round them in wonder. 
Eobert Dudley took a torch from the hands of the Indian, 
and holding it aloft, so as to throw a light on the roof and 
walls of the grotto, said — 

" Now, my friends, what think you of this 1 Did I not 
tell you that I would show you something that would 
astonish you 1 Have I not kept my word 1 " 

But none of the party could make any answer, other- 
wise than by broken ejaculations. They were speechless 
with admiration and wonder ; for the whole of the walls 
and roof of the grotto were glittering with gems — emeralds, 
carbuncles, and even the precious rubies were there in 
lavish profusion. The cavern absolutely blazed with the 
myriads of flashing lights which they reflected from the 
torches ; there was not a single stone on which one or 
more gems did not sparkle. From wall to wall — from 
roof to floor — jewels, jewels, jewels ! Green emeralds, 
rich red carbuncles, and crimson rubies, seemed to vie with 
each other in brilliance. There were other stones, too, 
whose names they knew not, but which were equally daz 
zling and beautiful." 

Sir Edward was the first to speak. 

" Eobert," he said, " are all these real gems 1 Are they 
real rubies and emeralds we see glittering before our eyes in 
such profusion 1 " 

"Yes, brother — every one real gems, and of the first 
water ; and, what is more, all mine— all ours !" 

Exclamations of delight and wonder broke from the 
others, as they feasted their eyes on the glorious sight. 
De Morny could not restrain his rapture. 

" May I take but one of these jewels as a sample, to 
convince me, when we have left this place, that it was not 
all a dream — a delusion J " 


" Take one — take twenty, if you please." 
De Morny hastened to possess himself of an emerald, a 
ruby, and another jewel, the name of which he did not know. 
The others followed his example, and soon each had 
detached from the rock one or two of the sparkling gems. 
" Now, gentlemen," said Eobert Dudley, " you know 
another reason why I must return to America. We can- 
not take all this treasure with us now ; and I do not mean 
to leave any for the Spaniards — of that you may rest 
assured. "Behold, gentlemen," he continued, after a pause 
— " behold the freight for our ship ! Surely a richer laden 
vessel than ours will be has never sailed from the New 
"World to the Old. And now, gentlemen, let us go." 

All, however, were so rapt in the contemplation of the 
array of gems, that it was some time ere they could tear 
themselves away. At last, however, they all proceeded 
along the narrow tunnel, and once again gained the open 
air. Eobert Dudley and the Falling Rain proceeded to 
roll back the stones, so as to conceal, as before, the mouth 
of the cavern. 

" Now, gentlemen, I have shown you that which 
hitherto was known but to myself and the Salhana chief, 
Falling Eain ; we have now common cause in all things. 
Let us be a band of brothers. There are three of us Eng- 
lishmen, three Frenchmen, and one Indian ; for you, my 
noble Indian warrior, mean to cast in your lot with us — is 
it not so?" 

The Indian replied by a grunt of approbation, ana Eobert 
Dudley continued — 

" For the present we must separate ; my brother, Sir 
Edward, the Indian chief, you, De Morny, De Brissac, 
and Madroy, will, remain in America — I shall sail for the 
Old World, taking as much gold with me as I can. In 


8ix months I will return, and we will meet all toge- 
gether again. I mean it for one — what say you, my 

"Agreed," they all cried; "we mean it also." 
" We are, then, as I said before, gentlemen, a band of 
brothers, devoted to the same object — bent on adventure, 
glory, pleasure, and enriching ourselves beyond the wildest 
dreams of man ; and, in the second place, and principally, 
to wage an eternal war against these accursed and trea- 
cherous Spaniards. English, French, and Indians we will 
together hunt them from the face of the earth. To Eng- 
land and France, through us, will belong the honour of 
having destroyed and broken up their infamous sove- 
reignty !" 

Then they all joined hands, and registered a solemn vow 
so to act. Then they commenced to descend the hill, and 
made the best of their way back to the Salhana village, 
where we will for the present leave them, and return to 
Francis Drake, whom we last saw sailing from the harbour 
of Santa Marta. 




More than five months have elapsed since the date of our 
last chapter. It is the 25th of January, 1565. A large 
vessel is sailing westward in the waters of the Spanish 
main, in the neighbourhood of the Bermudas. Her name 
is the San Domingo, and she is a Spanish galleon, or 
treasure-ship, deeply ' laden with ingots of gold and silver, 


with indigo and cochineal, and other valuable merchan- 

The Captain of the San Domingo is named Don Esteban 
Gonzales. He is a man of some thirty years of age, brave, 
and, as times go, sufficiently honourable; but the prin- 
cipal merit which procured him the command of a royal 
galleon, was the fact that he was related to a powerful 
minister at the Spanish court. 

It is noon, and Don Esteban is pacing the high poop of 
the Spanish galleon, is in earnest conversation with his 
first lieutenant. Let us join them. 

"Yes, my friend," said the Spanish captain, I have 
decided on a serious step when once we arrive at 

"And that is ?" 

" And that is, to espouse the Senorita Marguirita Citro- 
nero. Do you not think I show my taste in my choice 1 " 
"Most undoubtedly, senor captain. The senorita is ac- 
knowledged to be the handsomest maiden in Cadiz ; she 
would grace an emperor's throne." 

The Captain stroked his moustache, and seemed well 
pleased at his Lieutenant's approbation. 

"Do you know, Don Gabriel," he said, "I think, on 
my arrival, I shall resign my command. To tell you the 
truth, I am somewhat weary of the sea. My uncle, the 
Duke of Almeida, can doubtless procure me a profitable 
and honourable appointment at the coiut at Madrid." 
The Lieutenant merely bowed his head. 
" And you, Don Gabriel," continued the captain, "you 
would not object, I should think, to relieve me of the com- 
mand — you would not mind being yourself the commander 
of the San Domingo ? " 

Don Gabriel coloured with pleasure. 


"You are aware," continued DonEsteban, "that I ven- 
tured half my fortune in this voyage. Hitherto, it has 
been most successful, and I doubt not that the money I 
risked will be at least trebled. That will make me a rich 
man, so that, even if I had no interest at court, I need 
not, unless I chose, continue to command a galleon as a 

At this moment a sailor from the mast-head cried in 
Spanish — 

"Sail ho!" 

" A sail ! " said Don Esteban. " Let us come aloft, 
Don Gabriel, and see what you can make of her." 

Accordingly, taking a telescope, the Captain and his 
Lieutenant ascended to the mizen-top, and proceeded to 
survey and speculate on the strange sail. 

" It is a frigate," said the captain, after closely observ- 
ing the strange ship for some time. 

" Yes," said the other ; " a large frigate, and apparently 
fully armed." 

" Can you see what flag she flies 1 " 

"Yes ; the English flag is at her main." 

" An English frigate in these waters ! Strange ! — what 
can she be doing here ? Ah ! she alters her course, and is 
steering for us ! " 

" You are right, captain ; she is steering right across 
our starboard bow." 

" See — she hauls up her mainsail and foresail, as if pre- 
paring for action ! In a few minutes we shall be quite 
close. What can be the meaning of this ? Surely she is 
not going to attack us 1 We are not at war with England !" 

-:;- * * -» * -::■ 

Let us leave the Spanish galleon, and transport our- 
selves on board the English ship. 


This was a large and well-built frigate. Although she 
carried but a single tier of guns, these were of heavy metal, 
and of the best and most solid manufacture. Her tall 
masts supported a crowd of canvas, which sent her bound- 
ing through the foam at a great pace towards the Spaniards. 
Her crew were assembled on deck, busy clearing up ropes 
and all impediments, and running in and out the great black 
guns, apparently with the design of seeing everything in 
readiness. Pistols, flint-guns, cutlasses, and boarding- 
pikes are distributed about the decks, while boys are sta- 
tioned at each hatch, ready to pass up buckets of ammu- 

Whether at war with Spain or not, it is evident that the 
crew of the Englishman are preparing for a fight. Her 
decks are crowded by a numerous and vigorous crew 
mostly young men. Such as are not engaged at the can- 
nons are armed with boarding-pikes, cutlasses, and axes, 
in preparation for boarding the Spaniard. 

Such is evidently the intention of the Englishman ; for 
the Spanish flag has been flying for some time at the mizen 
of the other, while the only notice taken by the Captain 
of the Eglishman is to order the boarders on to the star- 
board side, in readiness to throw themselves on board. 

The cannon are all loaded and run out, while a gunner 
stands at the breech of each with a lighted match, waiting 
but the word from the captain to apply it, and discharge 
the gun. 

The English captain is standing on the high poop, close 
to the steerage-wheel, directing the ship's course. He 
raises his voice, and addressing the crew, says — 

" My lads, I promised, when you shipped with me, that 
each of you should return to England with plenty of 
Spanish gold. See yonder galleon— that shall be vug 


first, prize. She is ours — she must be ours ; and the gold 
and silver she carries, in place of going to Spain, shall en- 
rich you, my brave fellows. This is but the first of the 
many deeply-laden Spaniards which shall become our prize. 
Let her deck run with blood — no matter ; have not I 
declared an eternal war against the treacherous Spaniard ? 
Stand by your arms, then, my men, and when I give the 
word, throw yourselves on her deck, and cut down all whc 
oppose you ; spare none, while a man resists. Let their 
blood flow like water, till the accursed Spanish flag is 
hauled down, and the English ensign floats in its place. 
Now, my lads, are you all ready]" 

A loud shout rang forth from the crew at these words. 
"Hurrah for Captain Drake ! Three cheers for the brothers 
Dr ke ! Down with the Spaniards!" 

These and other shouts greeted the young captain "s 
words. They were now barely two hundred yards from 
the San Domingo, and well within range of the cannon ; 
still, however, Francis Drake did not give the word to fire. 
The English ensign was floating at the mizen-peak • Cap- 
tain Drake, taking a flag from the locker, bent it on to 
the signal halyards at the main, and quickly hoisted it 
aloft. They was displayed to the breeze, in white letters 
on a black ground, the words, " The Avenger" for such 
was the frigate named. 

In the meantime, the San Domingo made every prepa- 
ration for a combat, as the intentions of the Englishman 
could be no longer doubtful, as the captain of the galleon 
<:ould see the gunners at their posts, and the decks crowded 
with armed men. 

The two ships rapidly approached each other. The 
crew of each could now distinctly perceive each other, as 
they stood to their guns*, awaiting the word to pour death 


and destruction on the enemy. Francis Drake stood on 
the high poop of the Avenger, with his brothers Will and 
Michael, who were respectively his first and second lieu- 
tenants, on each side of him. Suddenly he gave a start of 
astonishment, for he perceived Amy and Harry on deck. 
He had given orders that they should remain below ; but 
the young girl, with rare heroism, had donned a suit of 
her brother's apparel, and had come on deck, resolved to 
share the danger. A woollen cap was on her head, con- 
cealing her beautiful golden tresses. A loose pilot-jacket 
covered her slight and elegant figure, while her legs were 
encased in a pair of sea-boots reaching far above the knee. 

" Amy," cried Francis, "what are you doing here? Did 
I not order you to remain below 1 " 

"Brother," cried the young girl, impetuously, "why 
should you be astonished ? You are about to fight and 
endanger yourself; why, then, should not I and Harry 
share the danger and the glory ] We will remain here, for 
it is but right we should." 

"Amy, Amy!" cried Francis, distractedly; "what is 
the good of your thus carelessly exposing yourself 1 ? You 
cannot assist, but will be in the way, while you run. a 
risk of death, or capture." 

But Amy replied, with determination — 

" To-day, as always, I will share your dangers ; I will 
not be refused." 

There was so much firmness and heroism in the speech 
of the young girl — the bright flush on her cheek and her 
glittering eye bespoke such determination — that Francis, 
while regretting the danger she was exposing herself to, 
could not but admire the spirit which prompted the act. 

" Amy, be it as you wish. God is good, and it is no* 
written that you are to perish." 


And now the two vessels are within a dozen yards of 
each other. Francis Drake seizes the helm, and altering 
the Avenger's course, so as to bring her broadside to bear 
on the Spaniard, he shouts In a loud voice — 

" Keady with the cannon ! " 

The gunners blow their lighted fuses, and wait anxiously 
for the word. 

" Fire ! " shouts the captain, when the two vessels are 
almost touching. 

Instantly the roaring report of the cannon is heard, 
followed by the splintering of timber, and the shrieks and 
groans of the wounded. 

The discharge took terrible effect on the galleon, deli- 
vered, as it was, at so short a range. No sooner was the 
broadside delivered, than, by a motion of the helm, the 
course of the Englishman was again changed, and she is 
run bow on to the galleon. The. latter then delivers her 
fire. The guns, however, having been slightly too much 
elevated, take effect principally among the sails and 
rigging ; a few only of the crew being wounded by 

And now the two ships come crashing together. 

"Boarders, away!" shouts the English captain, and 
instantly the crew of the Avenger leap on to the bulwarks, 
and prepare to board. But the Spaniards, who are not 
wanting in naval skill, have backed their mainyard, and, 
ere the grappling-irons have been fixed, the vessels are 
again clear of one another. A similar manoeuvre on be- 
half of the Avenger once again brings the two ships 
broadside to broadside. The cannon are run in, loaded, 
and again fired with terrible effect. 

Again and again is this dose of death repeated, till both 
vessels are hidden in the smoke. The rapid and cool fire 

I (J 


of the Englishmen is much more effective than that of hia 
adversary, whose decks are soon choked with the dead 
and dying. But the Spaniard is a much larger vessel 
than the other, and carries, therefore, heavier guns, and a 
more numerous crew. 

The shouts of the combatants, and the roar of the guns, 
are now mingled together in terrible concord ; the tim- 
bers crash and splinter under the iron hail, while the sails 
and rigging hang in shreds, and some of the ponderous 
yards, torn from their fastenings, come crashing down on 
deck. This havoc among the rigging is much more severe 
on board the Avenger, from the fact of the Spanish guns 
having been more elevated, while the carnage on board 
the latter is proportionately greater. 

The battle had now raged for more than half an hour, 
when the rising breeze dispersing the smoke which enve- 
loped them, revealed another vessel at about the distance 
of a mile. On board the Englishman eight men had 
been killed, and about a dozen wounded ; while the decks 
ot the Scrn Domingo Avere cumbered Avith the dead and 
dying, so that the two creAvs were now about brought to 
an equality. Again, the fire of the Englishman was both 
more rapid and more precise than that of the other, Avhile 
the heavy guns of the Spaniard, on the other hand, created 
terrible havoc on board the Avenger Avhen well-directed. 

It was at this moment that the eyes of both the cap- 
tains Avere turned anxiously towards the strange vessel, 
noAV rapidly approaching them. What was she — a friend 
or foe 1 Such was the thought, both of Erancis Drake 
and Don Estaban. Who Avould prove victorious in the 
terrible combat 1 

Erancis Drake encouraged his men, and Avaved his sword 
•lotiantly towards the Spanish captain, whom he espied 


on the poop. Don Estaban gazed anxiously and some- 
what despairingly on his own deck, cumbered with corpses 
and wounded men, and then towards the stranger. Sud- 
denly the strange vessel opened fire, and the shot came 
roaring through the air above their heads. Still they did 
not know on board the combatants at which vessel it was 
aimed. A temporary lull took place in the firing, and the 
crews of each gazed anxiously out at the other vessel. 
Suddenly a loud and ringing cheer burst forth from the 
crew of the Avenger, while the Captain of the San Domingo 
gave vent to a cry of despair ; for at that instant a flag 
was run up to the mizen-peak of the other vessel. It was 
the English flag, hence the cheer of one party, and the 
dismay of the other. 

" An Englishman — a friend ! " cried Francis Drake, 

"An enemy!" muttered the Spanish captain, gloomily. 

And now the right recommenced, the English fighting 
like very devils, and the Spaniards with the desperation of 
despair. Captain Drake once again directs his vessel's 
bow on to the Spaniard, who endeavours in vain to avoid 
him. The two ships crash together, and, deserting their 
guns, the crew of the Avenger leap into the rigging and 
bulwarks, and throw themselves furiously on to the deck 
of the Spaniard. 

And now commences a terrible hand-to-hand conflict. 
Cutlasses and axes crash and rattle, and pistol-shots suc- 
ceed the roar of the great guns. Inch by inch the Spa- 
niards are forced back, till at last the Englishmen make 
good their footing on the deck. In vain some fifty of the 
bravest of the Spaniards group themselves around their 
captain, and endeavour to stem the torrent of the 
boarders. The " Demons of the Sea," as Drake s men 


were afterwards called by the Spaniards, dashed on with 
irresistible fury ; the Spaniards fell right and left before 
the cutlasses, the axes, and the pistols of the assailants. 

Don Gabriel fell to the deck, wounded at the same 
time by a pistol-bullet in the chest, and a sword-cut on 
the head. It was written that the unfortunate lieutenant 
should never be a captain. 

Don Estaban, already wounded by a cutlass, is lying 
bleeding on the deck, still with desperate bravery encou- 
raging his men, and waving his sword. One of the 
Englishmen runs at him with a boarding-pike, and the 
next instant Don Estaban would have been run through 
the body, had not a hand arrested his assailant. It was 
the hand of Francis Drake. 

" Surrender ! " said the young Corsair, in Spanish. 
Don Estaban still hesitated, and glanced around. But 
what he saw did not encourage him to further resistance, 
for his men were driven back in every direction. At 
least fifty dead and wounded men ky immediately by 
him, and he perceived that he Avas completely surrounded 
by the enemy ; then, with bitter regret, the Spaniard 
raised himself on his elbow, and tendered his sword to 

"I surrender my sword and my ship, sir," he said; 
" but, in the name of his Majesty King Philip the Second 
of Spain, I protest against this piratical seizure ! " 
Francis Drake smiled a bitter smile. 
" Protest away, senor ; protest— it is your right. I 
once protested, and your countrymen were deaf. It is 
now my turn." Then, turning to his crew, he cried r 
" Down with your arms, my lads ; the galleon is ours." 

The Englishmen, with a loud shout, now proceeded to 
take unresisted possession of the sl'ia. The carnage on 


board had been awful ; for, r .. crew of a hundred and 
eighty-four men, thirty were killed, and more than sixty 
wounded — mar y mortally. The Spanish flag was hauled 
down, the English hoisted in its place, and the crew of 
the Avenger hastened to take off the hatches, and ransack 
the galleon of her treasure. 

Francis Drake remained on the poop of the galleon, 
sword in hand, his foot on the Spanish flag, until the 
cargo of gold and silver had been shifted to the Avenger, 
At the end of half an hour, his two lieutenants, Will and 
Michael, approached, and the former said — 

" We have taken all the gold, silver, and valuables on 
board ; there remains now but some packages of drugs 
and cochineal, also some bales of merchandize." 

" No matter," said Francis, disdainfully ; " we are no 
longer merchants — we have nothing to do with bale? 
and boxes. Our game is gold, silver, and vengeance ! " 
Then, turning with a mocking air to Don Esteban, 
Francis said : " Doubtless, Captain, you would like to 
take some of your goods with you to Spain, to prove that 
you have really been to America. You are welcome to 
the bales of merchandize, for we are no merchants." 

" So I perceive," said the Spaniard, bitterly ; " but 
since yon have murdered half my crew, and plundered me 
of all the gold and silver, you may as well complete your 
work, and take what else there is on board the galleon." 

Don Esteban doubtless thought to wound the English 
corsair by these words ; Francis Drake, however, replied, 
with a disdainful smile on his face — 

" Senor Captain, since you speak of plundering, 1 must 
inform you that I learned the trade of your own country- 

Don Esteban scowled at the speaker, and was about to 


reply by some fresh insolence, when Francis interrupted 
him — 

" Listen, senor : it does not suit me now to explain to 
you why I am the enemy of the Spaniards — why I have 
declared an eternal war against them, of which you are 
the first victim. Perhaps you know Don Jose de Casta- 
nares 1 ? " 

" Yes ; Captain Jose' de Castanares is one of my 

" I don't compliment you, then, on the fact," said 
Francis, bitterly. The Spaniard looked surprised. " Yes," 
continued Francis, " I repeat, I do not consider the friend- 
ship of Don Jose a thing to be boasted of ; for he is a 
villain, a thief, a coward, and a ruffian ! Perhaps, as he is 
your friend, you are going to see him in Spain 1 " 

" I certainly expect to see him." 

"Good. Well, on the day Avhen you see him, tell him 
that Francis Drake is cruising about the Spanish Main in 
search of him and his ship ; and that the day on which 
he meets him ho will exact a terrible vengeance. Then, 
doubtless, Don Jose will inform you why Francis Drake 
has turned corsair. Tell him that I wish to see him — that 
I am waiting for him." 

"That you are waiting for him," replied the Spaniard, 
bitterly, "to plunder him also." 

" You are right, my friend. I am waiting for him, first 
to plunder him, and then to kill him ! Adieu, Captain ; 
do not forget my message." 

And so saying, Francis Drake made his way back ovei' 
the dead and dying to his own ship. 




The grappling-irons were cast off, and the Spanish galleon, 
with the remnant of her crew and cargo, was permitted to 
go on her way. At this moment the report of guns was 
again heard from the strange trig. These, however, were 
unshotted, and were intended as a salute to the conqueror 
in the battle. 

Francis Drake, who was attentively regarding her, per- 
ceived a boat lowered and manned with four sailors, with 
one person in the stern-sheets. The boat rapidly ap- 
proached, and arrived alongside the Avenger — the stranger 
leaped on board, and advanced towards the captain. 

" Captain Francis Drake, I believe ] " said the new- 

Francis bowed, but looked surprised at being recognized. 
The stranger offered his hand, which Francis took in in- 
creasing astonishment. Meanwhile, Will, Michael, Amy, 
Harry, and the crew surveyed the stranger with looks of 
wonder, for they saw in him. an extraordinary resemblance 
to Francis. 

" My name is Francis Drake, and 1 am the captain of 
this ship ; but I cannot conceive how you could have 
divined the fact." 

" Oh ! that is simple enough," said the stranger, 
cmiling. " What other Englishman than yourself has 
declared an eternal war against the Spaniards? Allow 
me to congratulate you on the issue of the combat, lie 
assured that, if you had required assistance, it .should not 
have been wanting. My vessel is small, but my cannon 
are of the best, and my sailors are very devils to fight." 


"And 3 on, sir — who, then, are you," asked Francis, 
"who so generously meant to come to our assistance, ii 
needed 1 I perceive that your brig bears the English flag, 
and that you are an Englishman." 

" My name is Eobert Dudley," replied the stranger j 
" I doubt not you have heard my brother, Sir Edward 
Dudley, speak of me." 

" Ah ! " cried Francis, joyfully ; "you are the brothei 
of our friend and benefactor, Sir Edward 1 Believe me. 
we have not forgotten all his kindness. Where, then, is 


"At the present moment, I know not; but have you 
not an appointed place of meeting 1 " 

" Ah, yes ; the island of Trinidad." 

" Then doubt not that he will be there ; I also am goinj 
there to meet him." 

Francis Drake then requested his visitor to descent 
with him into the cabin, and partake of some refreshment 
Then Eobert Dudley proceeded to relate the history of thi 
events with which the reader is acquainted — his meeting 
with his brother — their adventures with the Indians — hii 
departure for Europe — and, finally, his return to th< 
Spanish Main, where he had promised again to meet Si 
Edward and the three Frenchmen, in order that the;; 
might all join in a crusade against the Spaniards. 

" And now, my friend Captain Drake," said Eober 
Dudley, in conclusion ; " you see I am here with you oi 
the Spanish Main. I have brought with me from Englani 
this brig, the Nemesis. She is well armed, and carries . 
crew of forty brave men ; she is at your service — m; 
brother, our friends the three brave Frenchmen, whom 
have mentioned to you, are also at your service. Togethe 
we will sweep the seas of these pestilent Spaniards, vac 


In their arrogance, dare to ill-treat and rob inoffensive 
strangers. What say you, my friend, shall the Nemesis 
and the Avenger be henceforth consorts 1 Shall my brother, 
myself, and my friends, also devote ourselves to the same 
object which inspires you 1 Shall we, together, carry 
terror and dismay all through Spanish America— plunder- 
ing their galleons, pillaging their towns, and by leaguing 
ourselves with the Indians, whom they have oppressed and 
tyrannized over, slowly but surely undermine their power, 
till the Spanish flag shall wave no longer over an acre of 
land, nor be seen in all the blue waters of what is now 
called the Spanish Main 1 Wh:jt say you, my brave 
friend 1 Are we, indeed, to be a band of brothers, with 
one object, one hope, one purse, and one spirit animating 
us— the spirit which has made England the great country 
she is — the spirit of enterprise and adventure — a spirit 
which, in the pursuit of glory, of honour, of adventure, 
braves all dangers, overcomes all obstacles, defies all hard- 

Francis Drake gave his hand to Bobert Dudley. "Sir," 
he said, " I had the honour of knowing your brother, and 
thought him the most honourable, the best, and the bravest 
English gentleman I had ever met ; I perceive now that he 
has in you the very counterpart of himself. I know not 
how to reply to so noble an offer. You volunteer to 
serve in a cause in which you are not interested, for, as- 
suredly, it is I who have been wronged, and not you — it is T 
who have been robbed, insulted, and outraged; and yit 
you abandon a second time your country, in order to cast 
in your lot with stranger?.." 

" Ah ! do not say so, Captain Drake ; you are not a 
stranger to me, as you are a friend of my brother's. 1 
tmve an interest in the undertaking you hav<j in view, for 


it is also my brother's ; and, in addition to all this, I have 
another and a very great reason for returning to America." 

"And that is ?" 

" And that is to possess myself of a vast treasure— a 
treasure of incalculable value, in the shape of gold and 
jewels, which I discovered when dwelling with the Indians. 
Ah ! you may look surprised, my good friend, but I assure 
you that I know of the existence of a treasure richer than 
was ever owned by king or emperor ! Wait, my friend," 
he continued, smiling, " until the clay when your sister, 
Miss Amy Drake, becomes the wife of my brother, and 
then you shall see what a wedding present I will give her ! 
No empress or queen shall ever have such splendid jewels 
as the future Lady Dudley." 

" My sister Amy — little Amy — the wife of your brother 
— Lady Dudley ! Impossible, sir ! you are amusing your- 
self with me," cried Francis, in astonishment, and colour- 
ing up, partly with anger, for he liked not what he con- 
sidered a jest on such a subject. 

"Ah! I see," said Eobert Dudley, smiling, "I have 
been indiscreet, I find, in telling you that my brother 
means one day to demand of you the hand of your sister. 
But, as I have said so much, I may as well tell you all. 
Yes, Captain Drake, I repeat to you, that some day to 
make Miss Amy his wife is the wish dearest to the heart 
of Sir Edward Dudley." Then, seeing that Francis looked 
still bewildered and confused, he added — " Is it possible, 
dr, that such can be contrary to your wishes ? Are you 
displeased to hear that a rich and honourable English 
gentleman has conceived an attachment for your sister 1" 

"No, no, a thousand times no !" replied Francis; "on 
the contrary, I have not words to express my gratitude and 
pleasure. I always knew that Sir Edward's was a great 


and noble heart, but I never imagined that one so wealthy, 
so noble as himself, would look so low as poor little Amy 
for a wife." 

"And Amy, ,: said Robert Dudley, smiling, " what will 
she say 1 Think you that she will look with disfavour on 
my brother's suit 1" 

Francis P?ake mereiy smiled in answer totnis question , 
but well h(5 could have answered had he so chosen, that 
Amy, so far from being displeased, would receive the 
tidings very differently. Francis Drake had long seen, in 
'i thousand little actions and words of his young sister, 
bhat the brave and handsome English knight was ever first 
in her thoughts. He had seen this, and regretted it, for 
he never even surmised or thought it possible that Sir 
Edward would ever look on her otherwise than as a 

His delight, then, may be imagined at these words of 
Robert Dudley — words which were pleasant to him, both 
as a brother and a friend ; as a friend, at this fresh proof 
of Sir Edward's nobility of heart — as a brother, at the 
happiness and honour in store for Amy. 

"And now," said Robert, rising, "having partaken of 
your hospitality, Captain Drake, and related some of mine 
and my brother's adventures, what say you if we proceed 
on our course to the island ol Trinidad, where, doubtless, 
we shall find my brother and his friends awaiting us." 

Then they both went on deck together. As soon as 
they arrived on the poop, Michael Drake approached and 
said — 

" Captain, your presence is required at the gangway." 
Francis, who was about to give orders to set ail saiL 
suddenly started — 

" ?ir." he said to Robert, " your kindness and generosity, 


and the good tidings you have Drought, almost made me 
forget a sad duty we have yet to perform." 

"A sad duty?" 

" Yes, to commit our dead to the sea ; for, alas ! some 
twelve of our brave sailors have met their death during 
the late battle. 

Then Francis Drake and Robert Dudley proceeded to 
the gangway, where the corpses of the slain were lain side 
by side on a grating ; and all standing round with un 
covered heads, in solemn silence, he read the burial ser 
vice, and committed their bodies to the deep. 

This sad duty accomplished, Robert Dudley descended 
into the boat which -was alongside in waiting for him, 
and went on board his brig the Nemesis. Then the two 
vessels made all sail, in company, for the island of Trinidad. 



The rendezvous agreed upon between Francis Drake and 
Sir Edward Dudley was not badly selected. The island 
of Trinidad was discovered by Christopher Columbus in 
the year 1498 ; for many years it was in the occupation of 
the Spaniards, but little by little it was abandoned by its 
new masters ; indeed, they would have been foolish to 
have spent their time in an unhealthy island, inhabited by 
the ferocious Caribbean Indians, when they had at their 
disposal the whole of a magnificent continent. 

It is the 3rd of February, 1565 ; four bells (six o'clock) 
strikes on board the Avenger and the Nemesis, as side by 
t'de tb&y sail into the harbour of Trinidad. At the siidit 

THE COtJNOlL. 253 

of the English flag floating from the mast-heads of tne two 
ships, a great commotion may be observed among a group 
of people on the shore. A musket volley is fired in the 
air by way of salute, and the English flag is hoisted on a 
flagstaff, evidently prepared for the occasion. The Avenger 
and th brig immediately reply to this by a royal salute 
from their big guns. 

No sooner had the vessels cast anchor, than two boats 
put off from the shore. In one boat was Sir Edward 
Dudley, the Chevalier Madroy, the Indian chief, Falling 
Eain, and several of his warriors ; in the other was the 
Count de Brissac, Gideon Glossop, and some other Indian 
braves. The sails of the Avenger were all clewed up and 
furled ; gay flags decorated each mast-head, and as the 
big guns thundered forth at regular intervals ; one would 
have thought that an admiral, or a royal personage, was 
coming on board. Sir Edward Dudley, wild with joy, 
leaped on the deck, and took in the group assembled to 
receive him in one rapid glance. There stood his brother 
Robert and his friend Francis Drake. Near them were 
Will, Michael, and Harry, and a little in the background 
little Amy, more charming than ever in her sailor's dress. 
They all hastened to meet him ; one after the other pressed 
forward to take his hand. 

" Sir Edward," said Francis, his face radiant with 
pleasure, "it rejoices my heart once again to see you. It 
seems almost like old times." 

Michael, Will, and Harry, too, all expressed their de- 
light at seeing their old friend once again. Amy alone 
hung back, as if ashamed. Sir Edward gazed round in 
search of her. Francis saw the look, and guessed its im- 


" Amy— little sister," he said, " where are you? Why 
do you not come forward and greet your old friend ] " 
Amy advanced diffidently and shyly. 

" Amy," murmured Sir Edward, also advancing, and 
looking in the young girl's .face. " "What, little one, are 
you not glad to see me 1 " 

He took her hand in his, but still she made no answer, 
looking down in silent confusion. He repeated his 
question in a reproachful tone. 

•' Sir Edward," said the young girl, in a low voice, " I 
am very glad to see you, indeed ; I hope you have been 
well." And that was all she said, after so long an 
absence ! Sir Edward Dudley looked astonished, and 
raising her hand to his lips, was about to kiss it gallantly, 
bub she snatched it away, colouring up to the temples, and 
said — 

'• No, no, Sir Edward ! do not," 

" Pardon me, Amy," he said ; "I did not mean to 
offend you." 

" I am not offended," was the reply, "but — but " 

And then, poor child, she burst into tears. Sir Edward 
understood those tears, and, thinking it best to leave hei 
to herself, he turned awajr, and approached Francis and his 

" Come," said Erancis, " let us descend to th« cabin ; 
dinner is prepared, to which I hope you will all do 

" So be it ; let us eat, drink, and be merry, for as- 
suredly, after so long an absence, we have a right so to 
do. Come." 

" Stay a moment," said Sir Edward ; " Francis, let me 
introduce to you our two friends, the Chevalier de Madrov 

the couloir* ?{55 

ariu tlie Count de Brissac ; also these two brave Indian 
chiefs, our allies — the Falling Bain and the Bounding 

Francis shook them all cordially by the hand, and then 
led the way to the cabin, followed by the others. 

" But," said Bobert, looking around him, as soon as 
they had seated themselves, " I see M. de Brissac and our 
friend Madroy ; but where is the Baron de Morny ?" 

" Alas ! " replied his brother, " our friend, the brave 
Baron, is unfortunately a prisoner." 

" A prisoner ! " cried Bobert Dudley, "and to whom? 
How did it happen 1 " 

'■'■ It is a long history ; shall I relate it now, or rather 
wait until you have finished your dinners?" 

" No, no ! not now," cried Francis ; "let us be merry 
now, and enjoy ourselves ; afterwards each of us shall re- 
late what adventures have befallen since we parted." 

They now all proceeded to enjoy the good cheer pro- 
nded for them. In truth, it was a merry meal ; the loud 
laughter and joyous tones of their voices bore evidence 
that on that occasion, at least, they had forgotten alike the 
perils of the past and those that awaited them in the 
future. As soon as the repast was concluded, wine and 
spirits were placed on the table, and Francis Drake com- 
menced by giving an account of his first engagement with 
the Spanish galleon, the San Domingo. We will pass 
over that, as the reader already knows the history of the 
battle, and the result. 

Now it was the turn of Sir Edward Dudley to relate 
how he had passed the last six months with the Indians, 
and how the Salhana warriors had become their firm 
allies, and also mortal foes to the Spaniards. 

" For four months after you left us, Bobert, to set out 


for England," said Sir Edward, "we lived happily and 
peaceably enough ; we had no intention of commencing 
hostilities against the Spaniards, or any others, until your 
return. Two months ago Ave organized a party for the 
purpose of hunting the bison ; we were on the point of 
[starting, and were just burnishing' up our arms, when the 
Salhana chief, the Falling Rain, appeared before ue. j his 
countenance was sad and gloomy. 

" ' What is the matter, my friend 1 ' I asked. 

" ' One of my warriors,' he replied, ' has arrived from 
Santa Marta, bringing me bad news.' 

" ' What news ? ' 

" ' Don Placido de Ortigoza, who has discovered — I 
know not how — that there are rich mines on the banks of 
the Magdalena river, in our territory, has resolved to send 
a party of miners, escorted by soldiers, and has given 
orders for us to guide them in their search.' 

" ' And what shall you do 1 ' I asked. ' Have not the 
Spaniards sworn to you to respect your lands ? ' 

" ' It is true.' 

" ' And now they break their word 1 ' 

" ' That is also true. ' 

" < And what then 1 ' 

" ' My white brother can understand that, in place of 
going to hunt with him, I must remain in the village , 
the Salhanas will never become the slaves of the Spaniards. 
The Salhanas will drive back the Spaniards from their 
lands and their hunting-grounds ; they will die in the at- 
tempt — die to the last man — old men, women, children, 
all will die, rather than submit to the Spanish 

" The Falling Rain had no sooner said these words than, 
going to the door of my but, I called to me De ErLsiac, 


Jladroy, and De Morny. ' Gentlemen,' I said, ' what 
should you think of men who should repay a generous 
hospitality by deserting their hosts in the hour of clanger ? 
You would say they were cowards, would you not 1 * 
" ' Yes, yes — undoubtedly,' they all cried. ' What of 


" 'Why, this. The freedom of our friends, the Sal- 
hanas, is menaced. The Spaniards have heard they have 
rich gold-mines on their lands, and are about to send 
soldiers to drive them away from their hunting-grounds 
and the graves of their fathers. Shall we leave them to 
contend alone against these treacherous Spaniards, or shall 
we give them our aid 1 ' 

" I need scarcely say what was the answer of my friends. 
We resolved to stop and fight with and for our Indian 
allies. When the Falling Rain heard our determination, 
he was radiant with joy. Even without our aid he 
doubted not that he and his warriors would repulse the 
enemy ; with our assistance he felt ten times more assured 
of the victory. 

" The Spaniards, although informed that they would be 
received as enemies should they invade the lands of the 
Salhanas, still persisted in their design, and marched 
towards the banks of the Magdalena. They were, in all, 
about a hundred in number. We advanced to meet them, 
and drove them back, defeating them shamefully. They 
left at least thirty dead on the field of battle, and fled pre- 
cipitately. But even this defeat did not turn them from 
their purpose. Some weeks afterwards they again advanced 
in greater numbers, and again we went forth to meet them. 
This time the battle was longer and more obstiiiate and 
'oloody on both sides ; but, ultimately, we remained aa 
before masters of the field. Unfortunately, one of our 



bravest champions — our poor friend, the Baron de Atomy 
— was taken prisoner by the enemy, and dragged away 
with them." 

" And how long is it," interrupted Robert Dudley, 
" since that second battle took place ? " 

" It is now fifteen days ago." 

" And since that time you have heard nothing of our 
poor friend 1 " 

" Pardon me, we have heard of him. Oh! trust me, 
we have not yet abandoned him to his fate. One of our 
spies, whom we sent to Santa Marta, has returned with 
the information that the Baron Aloysins de Morny is 
sentenced to be hanged on the 10th of this month." 

" On the lOth?" stud Francis Drake. " Good ! I think 
your friend, then, can be saved, for we can be in Santa 
Marta before that time." 

" And now, gentlemen," said Sir Edward, "let us form 
a council and decide on our course of action. We are all 
animated with the same desire to revenge ourselves on 
these perfidious Spaniards, to assist our Indian friends, 
and to win for ourselves honour and wealth." 

In due course we shall reveal the result of the council, 
and the means resolved on by the Englishmen, French- 
men, and the Indians, to punish Don Placido for his 



In order to explain how it happened that Don Placfrto, 

who was bv no means warlike in disposition, determined 


an taking by force the lands of the Salhana Indians, it ia 
necessary for us to go back a little in our narrative. 

Sometimes on this earth the most trivial causes produce 
the greatest effects ; it was so in this case. Now, it seems 
strange, but it is nevertheless true, that had the Baron da 
Morny not been discovered in the chamber of Donna 
Florinda de Martinez, Don Placido would never have re- 
solved on going to war with a tribe of inoffensive and 
peaceable Indians. But so it was. 

Don Martinez accidentally made the acquaintance of 
the Baron on one of the visits of the latter to Santa Marta. 
Finding that the Baron had plenty of money, and was 
lavish of it, Don Martinez assiduously cultivated his 
friendship. He invited him to his house, presented him 
to his wife, and courted him in every possible way. Nor 
did he fail to make it pay him well. The Baron de Morny 
never came to Santa Marta without a very large supply of 
gold, and very seldom returned to the village of the Sal- 
hanas with any at all. Don Martinez always contrived to 
transfer to himself a goodly share ; and the oftener the 
Baron visited Santa Marta, the better he was pleased. 

The Gascon always brought with him, on his arrival in 
Santa Marta, not dollars or doubloons, but gold-dust, and 
lumps of solid gold. These Don Martinez purchased from 
him, giving him in exchange gold and silver coin, and not 
failing on each occasion to realize a very large profit ; for 
the Gascon was careless and extravagant. 

Thus it happened that Don Martinez knew that his 
friend and guest had discovered a very rich gold-mine , 
and, although he did not know the exact locality, he was 
aware that it was somewhere on the banks of the river 

We have seen how that friendship) was so suddenly 


brought to a conclusion. The first burst of anger over, 
Don Martinez began somewhat to regret his precipitancy. 
In vindicating his marital honour, he feared he might lose 
a generous and confiding customer — a man who thought 
no more of gold than of dirt. 

No more visits of the Baron to his house, no more gold- 
dust, no more big lumps ! Don Martinez saw with sorrow 
his hopes of a rapid fortune dashed to the ground. Still, 
he hoped that the Baron would return ; then he would 
contrive to make friends with him again, taking especial 
care, however, to keep him at a distance from his young 

However, one — two— three weeks passed, but the B:iron 
came not. Then a month — then two months ; till at last 
he finally gave up all hopes of again seeing the liberal 

One fine morning, Don Martinez de la Torre requested 
an audience of Don Placido Ortigoza. He came at once 
to the point. 

" What will you give me," he asked, "if I can point 
you out a place where gold is as plentiful as dirt 1 " 

" Santo Dios ! " cried Don Placido ; " have you, then, 
discovered a rich gold-mine 1 " 

" No matter ; what share will you give me 1 " 

Don Placido thought for a moment, and then replied — 

" If you have indeed discovered a gold-mine, I will give 
you a third for yourself, another third for me, and the re- 
maining third goes to the coffers of our most gracious 

" It's little King Philip of Spain will ever see or hear 
of it," thought Don Martinez. " However," he replied : 
" be it so ; but I fear that there may be dangers and 
difficulties in the way," 


« What difficulties 1 " 

" The land where the mine is situated belongs to a tribe 
of free Indians, with whom we are now at peace." 

" But no matter. I will lend you soldiers and labourers. 
If the Indians offer to prevent you, my soldiers shall drive 
them off the land." 

" Good. How many soldiers will you give t " 

" Forty." 

" And how many labourers'?" 

" Sixty." 

" Good. I will myself find arms for these latter." 

" When do you set out ? " asked Don Placido. 

" To-morrow," was the reply, " if your soldiers and 
labourers are in readiness." 

" All shall be ready for you. In the meantime, do not 
you trouble yourself about the Indians. I will send 
orders to them, not only not to molest you, but to assist 
you in your search. Tfoey will not dare refuse." 

Little did Don Placido imagine what a desperate resist- 
ance these despised Indians would make to an attempt to 

despoil them of their land ! 


We have seen, from the narrative of Sir Edward Dud- 
ley, how the Indians and their white allies met and de- 
feated the forces of Don Placido. In the second battle, 
as we have seen, the poor Baron de Morny was taken 
prisoner, as he was gallantly fighting in the van. He was 
taken bound to Santa Marta, and there tried for being 
found in arms, fighting with the Indians against the 
Spaniards. He was tried, found guilty, and condemned 
to be hanged. This execution was fixed for the 8th of 
February. Don Martinez was one of the council who 
passed sentence of death on the unfortunate Baron. 


On the 7th of February — that is to say, the day previous 
to the execution — Don Martinez left his house, and pro- 
ceeded to that of Don Placido ; for he had a notable 
scheme in his head, by which he hoped to retrieve the dis- 
grace and loss of the two defeats he had suffered at the 
hands of the Indians. 

Scarcely had he left his house, when his young wife, 
Donna Florinda, also issued forth, attended by her faithful 
maid Inez. Donna Florinda passed hurriedly through the 
crowded streets ; so fast, indeed, did she travel, that Inez 
could scarcely keep pace with her. She turns up a nar 
row street leading towards the port, and stops about half- 
way down it, at a dismal and gloomy-looking building. 
This is the prison of Santa Marta. She rings at the great 
bell, and when the gaoler appears, hands him a piece of 
paper, signed at the foot — " Don Placido Ortigoza.'' Ihe 
gaoler, after glancing at the paper, at once throws open 
the door, and admits the fair young lady. The paper 
signed by Don Placido is an order to admit the bearer to 
the cell of the condemned prisoner, the unfortunate Baron 
Aloysius de Morny. The goaler leads the way, followed 
by Donna Florinda and Inez. He throws open a ponder- 
ous door, and, motioning the lady and her servant to enter, 
closes it behind them. 

They were in the cell of the Baron de Morny. Appa- 
rently the Gascon has a clear conscience, for when they 
entered he was fast asleep. At the noise made by the 
closing of the great iron door he started to his feet. 

The cell, though small, was lofty, and was lit by one 
small window, at a height of some fifteen or twenty feet 
from the ground. 

De Morny gazed with astonishment on the two females, 
Still half asleep, he thought he beheld an apparition. 

love and friendship. 263 

" Aloysius ! " murmured Donna Florinda, softly. 

" Ah ! " he exclaimed joyfully ; " then it is not a 
dream ! " and running up to Donna Florinda, he caught 
her hy the hand, saying : " Is it indeed you, sweet Flo- 
rinda 1 Do I indeed see you in my prison ? Why are 
you here — why have you come ? " 

" Why have I come % — I have come to save you." 

" To save me ? Ah, Donna Florinda, you know not 
how happy you make me ! " replied the amorous Baron, 
squeezing her hand. " Florinda, my charming Florinda 
you then love me still, since you deign sometimes to think 
of your " 

" To think of you ! " she replied, with a sigh ! " ah, 
yes — always ! " 

De Morny gazed in her face with a look of such pas- 
sionate admiration and devotion, that the young woman 
cast down her head and blushed. At the same time, she 
could not fail to feel touched. Suddenly arousing herself, 
she exclaimed — 

" Come, Baron, this is no time for love-making. I 
have come to provide for your escape — to save you from 
a dreadful doom ; for to-morrow you are condemned to 

These words Donna Florinda said with solemn earnest- 

" Yes, yes ; to die — to be hanged. I know all about 
it," said the Baron, in a light, indifferent tone. 

" And yet you can sleep ! " 

" Sleep— ma foi ! why not 1 I should like to know 
what else there is for me to do in prison 1 " and the Baron 
shrugged his shoulders. 

Donna Florinda gazed with wonder on the strange being 
before her t she never could understand him, and now less 


than ever. Such a strange mixture of frivolity, timidit; 
devotion, and bravery ! At times he appeared almost 
covard ; but again, at other times, he absolutely seeme 
to ignore danger altogether. He would go round a hur 
dred yards rather than pass near a snarling cur ; and ye 
here he was sleeping calmly a few hours before the tim 
appointed for his execution. 

" You are not, then, afraid of death 1 " she asked. 

" Afraid — ma foi ! what is the use 1 I would escap 
it if I could ; but as I see no chance, I just reason wit 
myself thus : — ' Baron de Morny,' I say, ' you are con 
demned to die ; you are in prison, and cannot get ou1 
If you are to die, you must die ; if you are not to die, yo 
will be saved :' and then I went to sleep. After all, yo 
see, I took the most sensible course. You have come, yo 
say, to save me — good ! Sleeping or waking, you wouli 
have come no sooner and no later ; so you must acknoTV 
ledge, fair Florinda, that I did wisely." 

Florinda g «ed at him with admiration and love beam 
ing from her eyes. In truth, she was very beautiful ; ant 
the Baron might well be excused in falling in love witl 
the fair young dame. 

" And now, sweet lady," said the Gascon, yawning, l'o 
he was still half-asleep, " how am I to escape 1 You sa; 
you have come to save me — show me the means." 

Donna Florinda pointed to Inez. 

" You must exchange clothes with my maid here." 

" Upon my soul," said the Baron, laughing, " this is i 
very pretty performance ! I must exchange clothes witl 
this young lady, must 1 1 Well, I suppose there is m 
help for it ; but, indeed, it is rather embarrassing, for ii 
this establishment of mine there is no retiring-room 
Well, young lady," he continued, addressing Inez, " whicl 


of us is to disrobe first 1 It is a matter of perfect indiffer- 
ence to me." 

Florinda blushed, but said hastily — ■ 
" Come — come, Baron ; this is no time for foolery, or 
prudish scruples. Your life is at stake ; at any moment 
the gaoler may return, and then all is lost. Hasten, then, 
to divest yourself of your apparel, and I will assist my 
maid to do the same." 

De Morny threw off his cloak, and was proceeding to 
divest himself of his doublet, when a slight noise caused 
him to cast his eyes upwards to the window. He gave a 
cry of joy ; Florinda and Inez followed his glance, and 
gave vent to a shriek of terror ; for they saw at the nar- 
row barred window the form of a hall-naked savage. 

It was the Bounding Panther. De Morny recognized 
him at once, and guessed that he had come to deliver him. 
The Bounding Panther spoke : — 

" I am sent to deliver my white brother from captivity 
— is he ready ] " 

" Eeady— ready 1 Yes, my friend; this very minute, 
if you please." 

The Panther proceeded to remove one of the bars, which 
had been already loosened, and lowered the end of a rope 
into the cell. 

" Let my brother climb up quick," he said. 
De Morny again put on his cloak ; then, turning to th« 
fair Florinda, he took her hand, saying — 

" Charming lady, I leave you now. You perceive that 
I am not deserted in my extremity. I have two means 
of escape : one with you, through the door in disguise j 
one without you, through the window. I prefer the one 
through the window. The other way is fraught with 


more of danger, both to you and myself , besides, it would 
necessitate us to leave this young woman in my place, and 
they might punish her for aiding me to escape. Now 
adieu ! " 

He drew the fair Florinda towards him, and imprinted 
a kiss on her lips. He seized the rope in his hands, and 
turning round, said, with a smile — 

" You see that the Baron Aloysius de Morny is not 
quite deserted in his extremity ; love and friendship both 
come to his assistance. Once again, adieu ! " 

Then the Baron climbed up the rope, and disappeared 
through the window. 

When Don Martinez, full of the project by which he 
hoped to discomfit the Indians, and avenge the two dis- 
astrous retreats, arrived at the house of Don Placido, he 
found him at dinner. There were with him his niece, 
Carminia, a charming and beautiful girl of eighteen, and a 
young man named Pablo Buanvuento, who had been some 
six months domiciled with Don Placido. He came from 
Spain, and was the private secretary of the Syndic. A few 
passing words concerning this young man and the fair 

Don Pablo was three- and-twenty years of age, tall, well- 
formed and handsome. Carminia was eighteen, and beau- 
tiful as an angel. She was ardent, amiable, and impres- 
sionable — he was the same; what wonder, then, that 
these two young people conceived a passion for each other ? 

But, alas ! Don Pablo was as poor as Job, while, on the 
other hand, Carminia, as the niece of one of the greatest 
authorities in Spanish America, would one day be pos- 
sessed of a large fortune ; and, without doubt, her uncle 
would expect her future husband to possess at least as 

Love and friendship. 26 1 

much as herself. At present, then, the hopes of the young 
people were slight indeed ; and, while adoring each other, 
they dared not even hope. 

As we have said, Don Placido was at table when Don 
Martkez called on him. Gluttony was one of his many 
faults ; he sat at table long, eat heartily, and drank in- 
ordinately. The announcement, then, of Don Martinez, 
as he was in the midst of his luxurious repast, was far from 
pleasing to the chief magistrate, and he made a grimace of 

Still, however, he was anxious, for reasons of his own, 
not to refuse himself to Don Martinez ; so he bethought 
himself of an expedient by which he might continue his 
dinner and yet see his visitor. This was, to invite Don 
Martinez to join him. Accordingly, a message was sent 
• J the latter, that Don Placido was at dinner, but would 
be happy for him to join. As Don Martinez was quite 
as much of a gourmand as his friend, he accepted the in- 
vitation gladly, notwithstanding that he had already 

Accordingly, he was shown in, and seating himself at 
the table, he proceeded to do ample justice to the viands. 
He wisely determined to leave the explanation of the 
object of his visit till the dessert, and devoted all his 
attention to the various dishes on the table. The repast 
finished, the dessert was served, and the negro servants left 
the room. 

" And now, my friend," said Don Placido, " let me hear 
what you have to say." 

Don Martinez filled himself a glass of wine, and drain- 
ing it off, replied— 

" I should have entered on my business long ago, but 

268 THE nEMOtfS Of THE SEA. 

your hospitality is so bountiful, Don Placido, that I hav« 
not hitherto had the opportunity." 

Don Placido bowed blandly, and also filled himself a 
glass of wine. 

" Pablo, my friend, will you take any more wine ? " he 
said to Ms secretary. 

The young man declined. 

"Carminia, may I offer you any wine — any dessert?" 

But Carminia rose, saying — 

" No, thank y»u, uncle. I will go out on the balcony a 
little, for I find this room too hot. Do you not also feel 
it so, Don Pablo ? " 

So saying, Carminia went on to the balcony, casting a 
glance on Don Pablo from the corners of her eyes, plainly 
inviting him to follow her. He took the hint, and Don 
Martinez was left alone with the Syndic. 

" Now, Don Martinez, let us hear what you have to 
say," said the latter, quaffing another glass of wine. 

" Don Placido," said Don Martinez, " you are awaro 
that there is in the prison of Santa Marta a certain French- 
man, named the Baron Aloysius de Morny, condemned to 
to be hanged to-morrow morning? " 

" Ah, yes — I remember ; a foolish fellow, who had the 
audacity to join the Salhana Indians to fight against n-. 
Well, what of it ? To-morrow he will expiate his folly 
on the scaffold." 

" It is to prevent that, Don Placido, that I am here. I 
have come to ask his life from you." 

"To ask for his life?" said Don Placido, in astonish- 
ment ; " why you were one of the foremost in condemning 
him to death ! " 

" I know itj but I have considered the matter over, and 


" Repent ! " said Don Placido, in still greater astonish- 
ment ; " why, have you turned soft-hearted in your old 
age, Don Martinez?" 

" Perhaps so — perhaps not ; but, at all events, I ask 
from you his life. Listen to my reasons for so asking, and 
then decide whether I have reason on my side or not. You 
are aware, Don Placido," continued the other, " that our 
two expeditions against the Salhana Indians have been 
singularly unfortunate — that on each occasion we have 
been signally repulsed." 

" Eepulsed ! " groaned Don Placido. " Repulsed is not 
the word ; we have been slaughtered, massacred, almost 
annihilated ! Do you know, that out of a hundred and 
fifty soldiers which the Captain-general of the province 
allows me for the defence of the town and my private use, 
there are not fifty fit for service 1" 

"It is on that very point that I -wish to speak with you. 
Doubtless the Captain-general, when he hears of the 
slaughter of his soldiers, will be in a great rage ; the more 
so when he hears that they were killed in an attack on the 
Salhana Indians, with whom we have a treaty. It is ex- 
tremely probable that he may refuse altogether to grant 
you more soldiers, unless you can satisfactorily account for 
these. Now, I have a scheme in my head which I think 
well worthy of your attention. This Frenchman, this 
Baron de Morny, who is condemned to die, knows where 
this gold-mine of which I spoke to you is situated. It was 
from him that I first learned of its existence. He ha* 
himself often told me, that he could, at this mine in ques- 
tion, collect with ease seven or eight pounds' weight of gold 
in one. day." 

" But then he i* a Gascon," said Don Placido, iru>re- 


dulously ; " and you must not believe all that is said bj a 

" But it happens, my friend, that I have had proof that 
the Baron spoke the truth. He used frequently to come 
to Santa Marta, and on these occasions he never failed to 
bring with him a large supply of gold-dust and of small 
lumps. I know this, for it was I myself who purchased 
the gold from him, giving hin in exchange gold and silvti 

" Ah ! ah ! " said Don Placido, chuckling, " a pretty 
thing you made of it, I'll warrant, my friend ! How much 
an ounce did you give him for his gold 1 Not over much, 
I'll be bound." 

" Well, well, I do not complain ; I did pretty well as 
long as it lasted. But that is not the point. This French- 
man knows the exact locality of the mine ; let us offer 
him his life, on condition that he conducts us straight to 
it ; then let a small party of us set out for it by night, so 
as to avoid the Indians. Once there, we have but to col- 
lect a few pounds of the metal and return. We can then 
ehow this to the Captain-general, and offer him a share in 
the wealth which must accrue to all, if he will grant us a 
large body of soldiers as a protection against the Indians. 
He will not refuse." 

Don Placido mused over this proposition for some time. 
Certainly it seemed feasible and plausible enough. 

"Well, my friend, what do you think 1 " 

''I think, Don Martinez, that you are right." 

" Good ! Then send a guard of soldiers at once to the 
gaol, and let us have this Frenchman brought before us." 

Don Placido rose to sound on a small silver bell for the 
purpose ; but at that instant Carminia hurried in from the 


balcony, looking pale and frightened. She was followed 
by Don Pablo Buanvuento, who also looked as if something 
unusual had occurred. 

" Eh — what ! Carminia, how pale you are ! What is 
the matter 1" asked Don Placido, starting up. 

" Speak, Pablo," said the young girl ; " for I feel too 

" Senors," said Pablo, " something strange and unusual 
is passing in the street. We heard a noise and shouting, 
and peering forth in the darkness, we could just discover a 
body of men coming down the street ; arrived at the sen- 
tinel's post, we heard again a noise as of a scuffle, and then 
again the body of men seemed to advance." 

" Oh, doubtless only some of the inhabitants of the 
town returning home after a merry-making." 

" No ; it could not have been so, I am sure," said Pablo, 

" Who, then, could they have been 1 " said Don Placido. 
" Nonsense, nonsense ! — you young people are frightened 
at your own shadows. At all events, it is easy to see ; I 
will look for myself." 

Carminia had closed the door loading on to the balcony 
behind her. She now threw herself before her uncle as 
he was about to open it. 

" No, no, uncle — do not open it ; there is danger. 
I am sure that I distinguished Indians among the 

"Indians!" said Don Placido, turning pale; "Indians 
in Santa Marta, and at this hour — impossible !" 

Nevertheless, Don Placido did not attempt to open the 
door, but retreated to his seat. Don Martinez, howeve^i 
resolved to know the truth, opened the door, and passed 
put onto the balcony. Leaning his bod*- ov&r /gazed - 



out long and carefully into the dark night. Not a soui 
was visible. 

u The street is deserted," he said, re-entering the room ; 
" there is not a soul to be seen. Your eyes deceived you, 
Don Pablo." 

"Not a soul to be seen !" said the latter ', not even the 
sentinel !" 

"Ha!" exclaimed Don Martinez, "true; the sentinel 
was certainly not at his post when I looked out, Don 
Placido. That, at all events, is strange." 

Meanwhile Oarminia, with whom, as with all women, 
curiosity prevailed over fear, had again gone out on the 

"See — see!" she cried; " there is a bright light yonder 
— what can it be?" 

They all hurried to the window, and looked forth. 
Truly enough, a bright flame was seen shooting up to 
the sky from the plantations to the right of the har- 

" It is a fire !" exclaimed Don Placido. 

"Yes, it is a fire," said Don Martinez ; "and, as I live, 
it is the house of Don Jose' de Castanares ! " 

" The house of Don Jose 1 " cried the Syndic ; " but 
Don Jose is away. Who could have set fire to his 
house V 

" Who knows 1 " said Don Pablo. " They say that the 
Indians hate Don Jose' for his juelties." 

" Oh, uncle ! " cried Carminia, almost crying ; " do 
come in ! I am sure something terrible is about to hap- 
pen. Send for the soldiers to protect us, for I am certain 
I saw Indians in the crowd just now." 

"The girl is right," said Don Placido, who became 
more and more uneasy each minute ; " I will send for a 


guard. Pablo, Martinez, will you go round to the 
soldiers' quarters ? Ah. ! but no matter — you had better 

remain here with me ; I will send one of my 

slaves. " 

Don Placido advanced to a side-table, on which was a 
small silver belL He was about to sound on this, when 
suddenly the door of the dining-room was burst open, and 
a group of armed men appeared at the door. These men 
were Sir Edward Dudley, Eobert Dudley, the Chevalier 
Madroy, the Comte de Brissac, and the Baron de Morny. 
Behind them were the Salhana chiefs, the Falling Rain, 
and Bounding Panther. 

Neither Don Placido nor Martinez recognized Sir Ed- 
ward ; but seeing among these men the Baron de Morny, 
whom they supposed in prison, they recoiled in terror. 
Don Pablo alone retained any firmness or presence of 
mind. With one hand supporting Carminia, who seemed 
on the point of fainting, he laid the other on his sword, 
and demanded, firmly — 

" Who are you, senors, and what do you here 1 " 

Sir Edward replied to him — 

" Who are we 1 you ask, senor. We are neither thieves 
nor robbers, you may rest assured. You ask what we 
want here 1 We want something which does not concern 
you, and we warn you that we will not be hindered or 

The tone in which Sir Edward said this was firm with- 
out being rude or threatening. De Morny then advanced, 
and, addressing Don Pablo, said — 

" Senor, is not that young lady I see there the Senorita 
Carminia 1 " 

"You are right," replied Don Pablo, haughtily ; " but 
what its that to you i " 



"It is much to me," replied the Gascon, smiling; 
" and I will some day prove that it is so." 

Then, turning to the young girl, he said, in a -voice 
which could not be heard by any one save her and 

" Senorita, did you not procure an order for your friend 
Donna Florinda to visit an unfortunate Frenchman in 
prison, who was condemned to die 1 " 

" All ! you, then, know it, sir ! " she replied, colouring. 

" I know it, fair lady, because I am that Frenchman, 
and from this day your devoted slave." 

So saying, the Gascon bowed profoundly, laying his 
hand gallantly on his heart. 

" Senorita, I was condemned to be hanged by your 
uncle ; now, I fear much that your uncle will be hanged 
in my place. Eest assured, however, that not the shadow 
of harm shall fall on you ; but as to your uncle, his fate 
rests in the hands of Captain Francis Drake, who will be 
here anon." 



On hearing the words " Francis Drake," Don Placido 
started and turned pale. While the Baron had been con- 
versing with his niece, the chief magistrate of Santa Marta 
had been regarding Sir Edward with vague uneasiness. 
He remembered his features somewhere, and felt sure that 
he was enemy — either a man who wished to injure him, or 
a man whom he had injured. At the words "Francis 
Drake," he suddenly remembered where he had seen him 


The man before him was one of the English adventurers 
whose property he had confiscated ; the others were his 
friends. But how came he there, and in company with 
two Salhana chief's 1 What did they want 1 what were 
their designs 1 and how did the Frenchman, whom he be 
lieved a prisoner under sentence of death, escape 1 

All these questions Don Placido asked himself, but was 
unable to answer one. 

And now the party is increased by a fresh arrival. 
Scarcely has De Morny finished his speech to Carminia, 
than Francis Drake, Michael, Will, and Amy also appear 
on the threshold of the door. 

Francis Drake at once came to the point. He was very 
pale, and regarded Don Placido with a cold, stern glance, 
which made his blood freeze. He recognized in the man 
before him the young Captain of the Enterprise, whom, 
six months previously, he had deceived and robbed. 

Francis Drake had just come from the house of Don 
Jose de Castanares. It was his hand which applied the 
torch, and set it in flames. 

Francis Drake regarded Don Placido, who was crouched 
up trembling in a corner, with contempt unmingled with 

" Don Placido Ortigoza," he said, in a stern, hard voice, 
" do you remember me 1 Yes, I see you do, for you 
tremble. I am the man whom you so treacherously de- 
ceived and robbed ; I am the man whom your worthy 
friend and accomplice, Don Jose de Castanares, under the 
pretence of friendship, sent on a fool's mission to Cartha- 
gena, and attempted to have assassinated by the Indian in 
the forest ; I am Francis Drake, in short, late Captain of 
the English brig Enterprise. As to Don Jose, the hour 
for his doom has not yet sky "k ; at present it is with you, 


and with you only, I have to do. Senor Placido Ortigoza, 
you are before your judges. Prepare, not to defend your- 
self—for that is impossible — but to answer what ques- 
tions I please to put to you. Gentlemen, the court ia 

Francis Drake took a chair, and seated himself in the 
centre of the room. He beckoned to the others to fol- 
low his example, while the two Indians stood guarding 
the door. 

" Pardon, senors ! " blurted out Don Placido, " pardoa 
me ! I am innocent of the offences which Don Jose has 
committed against .you." 

Francis Drake motioned him to hold his peace by an 
imperious gesture. 

"And I, senors," said Don Martinez — "I have not 
injured you ; I am innocent of any offence. "What Don 
Placido or Don Jose have done I know not ; but I at 

least have done nothing " 

" Nevertheless," interrupted the Baron de Morny, in ex- 
ecrable Spanish, " you will do us the favour of remaining 
where you are. Oh ! be easy, my friend ; the Senora 
Florinda has no need of you at present. I have made it 
my business to attend to her ; I have thought of her 
safety. Trust me, my friend, she is not breaking her heart 
about you. Do not imagine, my noble Don Martinez,that 
I will allow to escape so easily you who, but the other 
day, were so eager to condemn me to be hanged. Ah ! I 
trust the hangman has provided the rope for to-morrow ; 
for it appears to me we may need it yet." 

These mocking words of the Baron overwhelmed Don 
Martinez with dismay, and he turned pale with terror at 
the implied threat. 

" Senorita," now w aid Francis Drake, to Carminia " if 


you wish it, yon may retire from the room ; but I warn 
you that you must not attempt to leave the house." 

" Thanks, senor Englishman," replied the young girl, 
courageously ; " but I have no wish to leave. My place 
is with my uncle. You said just now you were neither 
thieves nor assassins — I will wait to see what you really 

Francis regarded the young girl with admiration. Her 
spirited reply presented a great contrast to the craven be- 
navioui' of her uncle and Don Martinez. 

Don Placido, observing the calm demeanour and mea- 
sured words of the man who had constituted himself his 
judge, now recovered somewhat his courage. 

"Senor," he said, "how long is this farce to last? and 
Vhat is the meaning of it 1 You have entered my house, 
laving doubtless surprised my servants and the one or two 
ioldiers who were on guard ; but remember that it will be 
Joon morning, and that with morning the inhabitants of 
this town, and the soldiers from the citadel, will come to 
my assistance, and then you will have to pay with your 
life for this outrage. How do you think to escape the 
punishment which you deserve 1 Once again I ask — how 
long is this farce to last 1 " 

Francis Drake smiled grimly, and answered — 
" A farce, you call it, do you, Don Placido ? You may 
yet find that it is a tragedy. You are bitterly mistaken, 
senor, if you fancy this is a farce. As to what you say of 
the inhabitants of this town coming to your assistance, you 
may dismiss that from your mind ; I have provided 
against that. How many houses do you suppose there are 
in this town of yours, senor Don Placido 1 — about two 
hundred and fifty or three Hundred at tW naost. WelL. my 


most worthy governor, at the door of each house is star 
tioned one of my seamen, armed to the teeth, with orders 
to kill instantly any person who attempts to pass out. 
Behind each of my men there are also two of the Salhana 
warriors, in case their assistance is needed. Then, as to 
the soldiers, you may also dismiss them from your mind ; 
for I have attacked and overpowered them. Indeed, they 
were probably too fatigued by their two battles with the 
Indians to fight. They did not make the slightest resist- 
ance, and are at this moment all safe in the prison of 
Santa Marta. In addition to these preparations and pre- 
cautions which I have taken, I have other means in re- 
serve. The whole of Santa Marta i» in my power, Don 
Placido. At a word from me, the town is given up 
to fire and pillage, and you will be conducted to the 

Don Placido looked incredulous, but nevertheless turned 
pale at these words. 

" It is for you to decide on your own fate," continued 
Francis Drake. " Your life is in my hands. On certain 
conditions, it is possible I may not hang you as you de- 

"And what are these conditions'?" said Don Placido. 

Although discrediting the statement made by Francis 
Drake, which he deemed utterly improbable, he never- 
theless thought it advisable to gain time. It would 
soon be morning, and then, doubtless, succour would 

Francis Drake continued — 

"You remember, Don Placido, that six months ago you 
plundered me and my friends of our property 1 " 

" I only acted according to law." 


" You lie, sir ! If you dare repeat the falsehood, you 
shall hang in five minutes' time ! Did you, or did you 
not, rob me of my cargo 1 — yes or no." 

Don Placido dared not answer "no," so he faltered 

"Yes, senor." 

" Good ! I will take note of your confession. Now for 
the second accusation I have to bring against you. You 
were at peace with the Salhana Indians, and, because you 
were informed that they had a rich mine on their lands, 
you sent an armed force to drive them away, and take pos- 
session of it. I will make you learn, Don Placido, that 
.^henceforth the territory of the Salhana Indians shall be 
'held sacred ; for they are my friends, and I have both the 
, will and the power to protect them. At your peril, for 
I fche future, venture to molest them. Now, answer me — 
yes or no — did you treacherously, and for the greed of 
■ gold, attack a friendly tribe of Indians, protected by 
treaty V 

Don Placido hesitated. 
" Yes or no 1 " repeated Francis, sternly. 
" Yes." 
" Good." 

Francis Drake arose, and consulted for a few minutes 
with his companions ; then, reseating himself opposite to 
Don Placido, he again addressed him. 

"Don Placido Ortigoza," he said, in a solemn, stern voice, 
" these are the conditions on which I will consent to spare 
you from a disgraceful death, and this town from pillage. 
It wants one hour from daylight ; in one hour and a half 
I require from you the sum of ten thousand doubloons, as 
a recompense for the cargo which you robbed me of." 


"Ten thousand doubloons ! " cried Don Placido, aghast. 
" Where am I to get such a sum V 

" From your strong-box — borrow from your friends- 
get it where you will— it is not my business ; only I swear, 
that if the money is not delivered to me in one hour and 
a half, you shall hang like a dog. I swear it by the heaven 
above us." 

Don Placido grew ghastly white at these words. He 
began to realize the fact that this was no farce, but a stein 

" Now for my other conditions. I demand from you 
also five hundred arquebusses, all in good condition ; also 
fifty barrels of powder, and a thousand pounds' weight of 
bullets. These I intend to present to the Salhana Indians; 
it will serve for their defence against the Spaniards for 
many a year to come. That is all for the present, Don 
Placido Ortigoza. You have an houi and a half to fulfil 
the conditions ; during that time you can go where you 
please to procure the money, the arms, and the ammuni- 
tion, accompanied by a guard of my men, who will shoot 
yea down like a dog if you attempt to escape." 

Francis turned away, but a thought striking him, he 
again addressed the unfortunate Don Placido. 

" I do not wish to hang you if I can help it," he said ; 
" and, lest you should doubt my words, 1 will give you a 
proof of my power and youi helplessness." 

So saying, Francis advanced to the balcony, and went 

"Gideon, bring Don Placido here," he said. 
Gideon, seizing the unfortunate Syndic by the arm, half 
dragged, half pushed him on to the balcony. Then Francis, 
taking a pistol from his belt, discharged it in the air. 


Instantly following the report of the pistol, there was heard 
first a distant commotion, which quickly swelled into a 
loud and terrible shout. Then one by one, torches were 
lit, till the whole street was one blaze of light. A sailor 
and two Indians stood before every door ; each one of the 
Indians carried a torch, which on the report of the pistol he 

And now is heard the tramp of a large body of men, 
who rapidly approach Don Placido, gazing out in terror, 
sees a body of some three or four hundred Englishmen 
marching along the street. He observes, as they pass, by 
the light of the torches carried at their head, that every 
man is armed to the teeth They march rapidly forward, 
singing with stentorian voices an English war-song. As 
Don Placido sees these fierce and wild-looking men, with 
their gleaming cutlasses and firelocks, he knows that his 
case is hopeless. If he wanted further confirmation of the 
fact, it came the next minute ; for immediately following 
the body of English came an equal number of Salhana In- 
dians, all accoutred for the war-trail. They all halted 
beneath the window ; and, at a sign from Francis, the 
singing ceased, and all was quiet. 

" Eehold, Don Placido ! Look, and doubt now, if you 
can, whether the town is or is not at my mercy." 

The Salhana Indians gazed anxiously up to the balcony 
on which they were. 

"Do you know what those savages are looking at 1 ' 
asked Francis, with a scornful smile. 

" No, senor," faltered forth, Don Placido. 

"They are looking at you." 

" At me ? ' 

" Yes, at you. I have fired a pistol once, and you see 
the result ; if I again fire,, there will ensue anotl>°iv a^l a 


more terrible result. At the second report of my pistol, a 
torch will be applied to every house in Santa Marta, and 
you will be delivered up to the Salhana Indians, whom 
you wantonly attacked. In one moment after I have fired 
they will swarm like cats, or rather like tigers, up this 
balcony, and will seize and drag you down ; for so I have 

Francis Drake placed his hand on a pistol ; the savages 
bounded forward with gleaming eyes, in expectation of 
their prey being delivered up to them. 

"Shall I fire?" said Francis, "or will you accept my 
conditions, and produce the gold, the arms, and the ammu- 
nition ?" 

" For the love of God do not tire !" cried Don Placido, 
ghastly with terror. "I will give all you ask." 

Francis removed his hand from his pistol, and advanc- 
ing to the front of the balcony, made a sign with his hand. 
Instantly the savages fell back, the torches were extin- 
guished, and two bodies of men marched on, and in a 
minute all was still, dark, and silent as the grave. 

"This must be indeed a terrible man !'' muttered Don 
Placido. " Even the very savages obey him as if he 
were a god! Fool that I was ever to offend such a man !' 
" You have one hour and a quarter to comply with m;y 
demands, Don Placido,''" said Francis, calmly ; " at the 
expiration of that time, you either produce the gold, arms, 
and ammunition, or you will hang on the gibbet erected 
for my friend de Morny. Come, gentlemen, the two In- 
diaus will see to the safe keeping of Don Placido. I have 
given them directions." 

So saying, Francis Drake, followed by his friends, went 
out, leaving Don Placido and Don Martinez petrified with 
tenor and astonishment at what they had witnessed 




Silbnce reigned throughout Santa Marta for some time 
after the departure of Francis Drake from the house of 
Don Placido. In a few minutes, however, a low murmur 
was heard, which increased each moment. As the day 
began to dawn, a few of the inhabitants ventured timidly 
into the streets, and gazed about in search of their terrible 
enemy. But the enemy was nowhere visible ; not an 
Englishman, or even an Indian, was to be seen. What 
could it mean 1 It seemed that they had disappeared as 
suddenly as they came. 

Soon the house of Don Placido was surrounded by the 
populace, who came to know the meaning of the extra- 
ordinary affair of the night. The principal merchants ar.d 
inhabitants crowded the house, and pressing around its 
master, sought for an explanation. 

But Don Placido was far too much frightened and 
terror-stricken to give them any satisfaction. He was 
thinking of his gold — of the ten thousand doubloons 
which had been demanded of him. He was thinking how 
he miglnVpossibly avoid the payment of the money. 

]S T ear him stood, silent and sedate, the two Indian 

The clamour of the crowd without and the crowd within 
the house increases ; for none know as yet what has hap- 
pened, or what may happen. 

At last Don Pablo came to the assistance of the chief 
magistrate, who still seemed buried in a sort of stupor. 
He mounted the table, and proceeded to explain to the 


company in the room the meaning of the affair of the 
night. He told them that the town had been surprised 
by two English corsairs, aided by a tribe of hostile In- 
dians ; and that the price demanded for not delivering the 
town to pillage, and the chief magistrate to death, was ten 
thousand doubloons, and a large quantity of arms and 

" What shall we do, my countrymen 1 " cried the young 
man, as he concluded. " Shall we comply with the de- 
mands of the English corsairs ? or shall we reply by a 
volley from our arquebusses 1 " 

For the honour of the Spaniards be it said, they replied 
to this question by a shout of rage and defiance. 

"No, no!" cried several. "Let us fight! Death to 
the English corsairs ! " 

" Let us shut up the women and children in a safe 
place, and go forth to meet them ! " cried one. 

" Yes, yes — let us attack them, and drive them into the 
8eal M 

But Don Martinez now spoke ; and what he said con- 
siderably cooled the ardour of those who wished to 

" Let us fight, gentlemen," he said " Very good : if 
you wish it, I, for one, will fight ; but let us first consider 
the chances we have — the forces we have at our- disposal, 
and those at the disposal of the enemy. In the first place, 
have you thought on the consequences of an engagement 
with the English 1 If they defeat us, the town will be 
delivered up to fire and sword. How many men do you 
suppose we have fit to bear arms ? Certainly not more 
than five hundred ; and these are all undisciplined, and 
unaccustomed to arms, while the Englishmen ai'3 very 
devils to fight, all strong, fierce- looking men, and armed 


to the teeth ; for I marked the corsairs well as they 
marched past the house. Then we have no soldiers ; for 
they were all overpowered, disarmed, and placed in the 
gaol. The prison is close to the port, so that to release 
them, we should first have to defeat the English. Then, 
as to the arms : we have but few, for the English have 
seized all they found in the citadel. And, lastly, I wish 
to remind you of another fact, which you seem to have 
forgotten. The two English ships which brought these 
corsairs here are lying in the harbour, at an easy distance 
from the town ; they each carry many cannon, for I can 
see them from the balcony. It would, then, but be the 
.york of a few moments to lay the town in ashes. Thau 
is how the case stands : we are some five hundred badly- 
armed, undisciplined men, against seven or eight hundred 
well-armed, well-disciplined men, inured to hardships and 
danger. And these English are no joke, I can tell you, to 
contend against ; they fight stubbornly, determinedly, like 
very demons. And in addition to this, there are the two 
war-ships, with their cannon. Now, gentlemen, you have 
the true state of the case." 

A murmur went round the assembly at these words. 
" It would be madness ! " cried several. 
"We should only be exposing ourselves uselessly, and 
delivering up the town to pillage," said others. 

" I am for complying Math the demands of these cor- 
sairs," continued Don Martinez. " Eive hundred arque- 
busses and some ammunition — what is that 1 We can 
soon procure more from Carthagena. And ten thousand 
doubloons — it is a large sum, certainly ; but even the 
payment of that is better than the destruction of our 

" Ten thousand doubloons ! " muttered Don Placido 
"Where shall I procure ft ? It will be the ruin of me I" 


"And will it not be the ruin of you if you are hanged 
in an hour's time, as the captain of the corsairs threat- 
ened 1 " asked Don Martinez. " Do you prefer that the 
town should be given up to pillage, and you to the 
gibbet ? " 

" But it is not fair that I should pay all. I am willing 
to pay my share — say one thousand doubloons," said Don 
Placido, who had now somewhat recovered from his 

But the whole history of the affair had now got wind j 
and the citizens now learned that the pirate captain was 
the same as he whose cargo Don Placido had confiscated 
six months previously. 

" Bah ! " said a merchant ; " it is but just that you 
should pay all. Had it not have been for you, Don Pla- 
cido, this would never have happened ; had you not have 
seized on the cargo of the English ship which arrived here 
six months previously, they would not have sought this 
vengeance on the town." 

"True," cried another; "all this trouble is brought on 
us by Don Placido — it is right that he should bear the 

" Yes, yes !" was now heard on all sides ; " Don Placido 
is rich, let him pay." 

"Yes, yes — I will pay," cried Don Placido, seeing that 
all were against him ; " I will pay, if necessary. But 
where are the English corsairs — are they still in the 
town 1 " 

" No - 9 they have left the town, and await on the quay." 

" Ah ! then why need we pay at all ? Call out the 
soldiers — send to the Captain-general at Carthagena for 
assistance. Why should we pay, since we are no longer in 
danger 1 ?" 

" Senor," said Don Pablo, " the corsairs have ie it the 


town, it is true ; but they are all gathered together on the 
quay. They are ready, drawn up in battle array, with their 
arms in their hands, again to precipitate themselves upon 
the town, if necessary. The guns of their two war-ships 
are also pointed towards us. As for the soldiers, they are 
all disarmed and imprisoned ; so that, for the present, our 
chance is hopeless." 

The countenance of Don Placido again fell at this news. 
" Well," he said, in doleful accents, " I suppose there ia 
no help for it. Go, senors, and provide the arms and am- 
munition ; I will try and find the gold. Ten thousand 
doubloons ! Alas ! I am a ruined man ! " 

Then all left the room but Don Pablo, Don Martinez, 
and Carminia. Don Placido seated himself, and once again 
gave way to grief and despair at the thought of his ten 
thousand doubloons. He remained with his face buried 
in his hands for fully half an hour ; then Don Pablo, 
touching him on the shoulder, roused him from his fit of 

" It wants but little more than a quarter of an hour of 
the time appointed by the English corsair," he said. 

" Time ! what appointed time? " said Don Placido, as if 
in a dream. 

"Why, the time by which you were to produce ten 
thousand doubloons, senor." 

"Ah ! yes, I remember," said Don Placido, with a sigh; 
" I suppose it must be done ; but I am a ruined man. 
May Satan confound him and all his countrymen ! Oh, 
if Don Jose de Castanares were only here, then we would 
see ! Ah ! there would then be a fight, indeed ; for Don 
Jose is brave, and the English corsair hates him like th© 
fiend. - " 

" Hates him — why so t " asked Don Pablo. 


Don Placido was about answering ; bui happening tr 
cast his eyes on his niece Carminia, he suddenly checked 

Then he lowered his voice, and said something in a low 

"Ah!" he chuckled, "now you see why Don Jose" 
would be obliged to fight as much for us as himself ! " 

Don Pablo gave vent to an exclamation. 

" Oh, but this is infamous !" he cried. " Is r ow I under- 
stand why the English corsair burned down Don Jose's 
house ; now I understand why he hates him so bitterly ! 
And you say, senor, that you wish Don Jose were here 1 ? 
If Don Jose were here to-day, the English would kill us 
with him, without mercy ; and they would be right." 

" Eh ! what— what is that you say, Pablo 1 " cried Don 
Placido, angrily. " What do you mean 1 " 

At this moment the clatter of arms wae heard in the 
court-yai'd below. The citizens were bringing in the arque- 
busses demanded by the corsair. 

This reminded Don Placido of the unwelcome fact that 
he had to provide ten thousand doubloons in gold. 

With a deep groan, he arose. 

" Come, Pablo — come with me to my vaults. My curse 
on the corsairs : they have ruined me ! Come, let us get 
the gold, and finish this affair, as there is no help for it" 

So saying, the chief magistrate of Santa Marta went 
out with his secretary, and descended the vaults where he 
kept his treasure, in order to comply with the imperative 
demand of the Englishman — a dem;md which he dared 
not disregard or even postpone, foi he felt that from 
Francis Drake he might expect no mercy, did he fail to 
comply implicitly and at once with the conditions. 



The English corsairs and their Indian allies were assem- 
bled in a group on the quay of Santa Marta, awaiting ine 
arrival of the ransom for the captured town. 

The singular success which had attended their audacious 
attempt was due in a great measure to the skill and fore- 
thought of their young commander ; and also, in a less 
degree, to favouring circumstances. 

One fact was peculiarly advantageous to them. Usually 
the harbour of Santa Marta contained at the least some 
twenty Spanish vessels, the crews of which would have 
been powerful auxiliaries to the townspeople ; but on this 
occasion the port was absolutely deserted With the ex- 
ception of two small vessels undergoing repairs, there were 
none in port, neither merchantmen nor war-ships. 

A few minutes before the time appointed by Francis 
Drake, Don Placido appeared approaching the quay. Be- 
fore him went two negroes, carrying a heavy chest ; behind 
him, marching in stolid silence, were the two Salhana 
Indians whom Francis had appointed as his guards. Be- 
hind these, again, came many of the inhabitants of the 
town, bearing among them the arms and ammunition 
demanded ; while, last of all, followed a crowd of women 
and children bringing up the rear. 

"Here comes Don Placido with the ransom," said 
Sir Edward Dudley. " It appears, after all, that this 
affair is to end without bloodshed." 

" I rejoice at it," replied Francis ; " for I prefer to fty ht 
these Spaniards at sea, on equal terms. I 'ike not Wvw^f 
to attack a town filled with women and children." 



Don Placido advanced sorrowfully and slowly towards 
the corsairs — so slowly, indeed, that the foremost of the 
inhabitants behind had almost to push liini onwards. 

Arrived before the captain of the corsairs, he made a 
sign to the negroes, who deposited the chest of gold on the 
ground at his feet. 

"Captain Francis Drake," he said, with a deep sigh, 
" here is the gold which you ordered me to procure, and 
here are the arms and ammunition." 

" Very good, Senor Ortigoza ; it is well for your sake 
that you have thought proper to obey my demand." 

Then, turning to the men who were grouped around, he 
said, pointing to the chest of gold — 

" My boys, this is for you ; take it and divide it equally 
among you." 

The sailors replied by a shout of delight, and dragging 
the box away, prized open the lid, and were soon busy 
distributing the bright Spanish doubloons. 

" My brothers," continued Francis to the Indians, "the 
arms and ammunition are for you. Don Placido makes 
you a present of them, as a recompense for his unwar- 
ranted and treacherous attack. Is it not so, Don Placido V 

Don Placido bowed in silence. 

" He gives them to you, with the promise never again 
to attack or molest you or your lands. Is it not so, Don 
Placido ?" 

" The Salhanas have my word," replied Don Placido. 

Francis Drake could have replied, had he chosen 

" They had your word before, and it was treacherously 

But those who are successful can afford, in the hour of 
victory, to be generous. 

Loud cries of joy broke from the Indian warriors as 


they proceeded to take possession of the arms and ammu- 
tion. No present could have been more acceptable to 
them, or more disastrous to the Spaniards, should they 
again resolve, in spite of their word, to attack them. The 
arms were more than sufficient for the whole tribe, and 
the ammunition would, with care, last them for years. 

Among the inhabitants at the rear of Don Placido might 
have been seen Carminia his niece, leaning on the arm of 
Don Pablo. Amy, in her pretty sailor's dress, left hex 
brother's side, and going over to the young Spanish girl, 
was soon engaged in conversation. It appeared that the 
two young girls had rapidly struck up a friendship ; for, 
although neither understood more than a word or two of 
the other's language, their smiles and gestures evidenced 
as much. 

" Amy ! " cried Francis, missing his sister, and not see- 
ing her with Carminia. 

Amy, pressing Carminia's hand, hastened away to where 
her brother was standing looking around uneasily for her. 
She had but joined him, when Carminia, who had followed 
her, called her attention by touching her on the shoulder. 
Carminia, taking a bracelet from her wrist, said some 
words in Spanish, with a bright smile on her beautiful 

"What is it she says, Sir Edward ?" asked Amy. 

" She begs that yon will accept the bracelet she holds 
in her hand, in memory of her." 

"Ah, yes !" replied Amy ; "that I will gladly do." 

Then sbe held out her hand, and the Spanish maiden 
fastened on the trinket. 

" Tell her, Sir Edward," said Amy, that I thank her 
much, and will not forget her or her kindness." 

Carminia acknowledged Amy's thanks with a smile; 


and then these two young girls, neither of whom under- 
stood the other's language, and who a few minutes before 
were strangers, embraced each other, and, each in her own 
tongue, swore an eternal friendship. 

To the brave, vengeance on the weak is hateful ; there- 
fore, after the implicit and complete obedience with which 
Don Placido had met his demands, Francis Drake hastened 
to make preparations to evacuate Santa Ma**** ind leave 
the inhabitants in peace. Having given orders to his 
sailors to embark, he turned towards Don Placido, and 
said — 

" Senor Don Placido, you are well out of this affair— 
yon have only suffered in purse. But there is another man 
who shall render a far different account to me. When 
you see Don Jose' de Castanares, do not forget to tell him 
who it was that burned his house ; and tell him that he 
shall die at my hands." 

Many of the English sailors had now re-embarked, 
while the others were waiting the return of the boats to 
be taken off to the ships. Before finally leaving the shore, 
Francis Drake advanced to the body of Indian warriors, 
his allies, in order to bid them, for the present, farewelL 
The Falling Eain, in the name of his warriors, replied. 

"Thanks to you, brother,'' he said, "and your whit« 
warriors, we are left free men in our forests and villages , 
for the Spaniards have sworn to molest us no mor"e. 
Thanks to you, also, should they again wish to break their 
word, we have arms and ammunition wherewith to combat 
and defeat them. Between you and us — your people and 
our people — let there be an eternal friendship. We leave 
you now, but on the day when you have need of our help, 
we will come at the first summons.'' 


"Thanks, brave brother," replied Francis; "I hear 
your promise with joy, and should necessity arise, will not 
fail to take advantage of it." 

Then he bade them adieu, shaking the Falling Rain and 
the bounding Panther cordially by the hand. After Francis, 
Robert Dudley, Sir Edward, and the three Frenchmen also 
did so. It was arranged that they should all again pay a 
visit to the Indian village, in order to bring away the gold 
they had left there under their charge, and also to return 
to the marvellous grotto of precious stones which Robert 
* Dudley had shown them. Then the Indians, at a sign 
from their chiefs, disappeared in the forest, and the Eng - 
Jish hastened to their boats. 

As the last men were about crowding in, suddenly there 
rang forth on the morning air a terrible shout — a yell as 
of a thousand demonds. That terrible cry came, from the 

The men leaped from the boats, and stood gazing in sur- 
prise towards the town whence it came. Again and again 
the infernal yell rang forth, mingled now with the shrieks 
of women and children, the report of fire-arms, and the 
groans and shouts of men. 

Francis stood still and listened. 

" Good heavens ! what is that ? " he exclaimed, in as- 
tonishment. " There appears to be a terrible combat going 
on in the town." 

" Some quarrel among the Spaniards, I suppose," said 
Sir Edward Dudley. "What a terrible shouting they 
make, to be sure ! I suppose having got rid of us, they 
axe now venting their rage upon one another." 

Again the terrible yell which they had first heard rang 

"No." cried Robert Dudley, who had been listening 


attentively ; "I know that cry — it is the war-whoop of ™ 
Ottamanko Indians. Bereft of their arms, their soJ.'J'V*' 
in the prison, the unfortunate Spaniards are attacked Vy 
the most savage and merciless tribe of Indians in South 

As he spoke, they saw running towards them an Indian j 
it was the Bounding Panther. In a few words he con- 
firmed Robert Dudley's speech — the town was attacked by 

Informed, doubtless by their spies, that the English and 
the Salhanas had seized and disarmed the town, they had 
waited in the woods for the departure of the conquerors, 
and then, in their turn, had thrown themselves into the 
defenceless town, pillaging, slaughtering, and murdering. 

" What says my brother 1 " asked the Indian of Francis. 
" He has granted peace to the Spaniards ; will he allow 
them to be attacked by others — by the Ottamankos, his 
enemies ? " 

The noise, the shouting, the yells, and the crash of arms, 
became more deafening every moment. Cries of rage, de- 
spair, and agony were borne on the wind, mingled with the 
terrible war-whoop of the Ottamankos. 

"Shall we allow these unfortunates to be slaughtered?" 
he asked of his companions. 

"No, no!" cried all, with one voice ; "let us to the 
rescue !" 

Then, addressing the sailors, who had left the boats, and 
now, with their arms in their hands, crowded rounfi! their 
commander for orders — 

" Come on, my boys ! " he cried, with a loud voice. 
' The Spaniards are our enemies, it is true ; but they aro 
Christians like ourselves. Let us, then, like brave men, 
give them our aid against pagan savages." 

tlRE AND SWORD. 295 

A loud shout greeted these words of the young captain, 
and the sailors ranged themselves in order of battle, and 
waited but the word to dash into the town to the as- 
sistance of their late enemies. 

How extraordinary are the workings of the human 
heart ! These same men, who a few hours previously 
would have slaughtered the Spaniards without mercy had 
they resisted, now prepared to rush to their assistance, 
waiting impatiently for the word from their young com- 

At this moment a number of the inhabitants appeared 
in sight ; they were being driven in confusion from the 
town before a superior force of savages. Most of the 
Spaniards were unarmed, not having time to search for 
the few arquebusses left in the town before they were at- 
tacked by the Ottamankos. Dreadful was the slaughter ; 
the Indians had complete possession of the town, and the 
women and children were at their mercy. The shrieks 
and cries of these latter might now be heard above the 
din of battle. 

" Forward, my boys ! " cried Francis Drake to his men. 

Then the English marched forward to meet the body of 
flying Spaniards and pursuing savages. Onwards they 
went, not confusedly or in disorder, but in a serried 
phalanx, marching shoulder to shoulder, with their mus- 
kets cocked, ready to deliver their fire at the word of 

The Spaniards, driven back in headlong confusion, were 
noon behind the advancing body of Englishmen, whom 
they avoided in terror, thinking that they were again ad- 
vancing to attack them, and that it was a prearranged 
plan between them and the Indians, first to disarm the 
town, and then to deliver it up to fire and sword. But 


no sooner were the Spaniards in their rear flying in dirs 
confusion towards the sea, than the Ottamankos were 
made aware that they had other enemies now to contend 
with than badly-armed, panic-stricken inhabitants, unac- 
customed to war. Many of the English had gone on 
board the ships, and had not yet had time to return to the 
assistance of their comrades. Thus it happened that the 
body of yelling savages outnumbered them nearly three to 

On came the Indians, yelling, shouting, and flourishing 
their arms. They seemed inclined to avoid the compact 
body of Englishmen, and pursue the dispirited Spaniards. 
But this did not meet the approval of Francis Drake. 

" Now boys, steady — aim low," he said. 

The muskets of his sailors were raised as with one 

" Fire ! " 

A deadly volley poured forth from their levelled bar- 
rels, and the bullets tore and whistled through the ranks 
of the Ottamankos, creating terrible havoc. The Indians 
hesitated, and fell back in terror at the sight of the ad- 
vancing Englishmen, who, after delivering their fire, 
rushed to the attack. 

" Load your guns again," cried Francis Drake, as he 
perceived that his men were about to rush on the savages 
with empty muskets. 

This was a wise precaution, for a second body of Indians, 
as numerous as the first, now appeared, coming from the 
town to the assistance of their comrades. This reinforce- 
ment rushed towards the small body of English with wild 
and terrible yells. But another well-directed volley 
checked their ardour, and now at least forty savages were 
stretched on the ground, weltering in their blood. For 


an instant the savages paused, and seemed inclined to 
seek safety in flight ; but seeing the small number of their 
adversaries, and encouraged by their chiefs, they again 
rushed to the attack, and advanced yelling and shouting. 
The English did not wait for them, but with a loud cheer 
met them half way. 

Now began a terrible hand-to-hand combat. Cutlasses 
clashed and glittered in the morning sun, and the clubbed 
muskets of others did terrible execution among the Indians. 
The latter, however, were at least three to one, and, still 
fighting desperately, the corsairs were compelled to fall 
slowly back. The ground was encumbered with the dead 
and dying as they retreated step by step. Again and 
again the Indians threw themselves on the little band, 
striving to break through their ranks ; again and again 
they were beaten back, leaving numbers of their warriors 
with skulls and bones crushed by the clubbed muskets of 
the sailors, which they used with terrible effect. 

Now, however, the Indians commenced a galling fire of 
arrows, to which the English could make no effective reply ; 
for it took all their exertions to keep the infuriated savages 
from breaking their ranks, so that they had no opportunity 
of reloading their pieces. The situation was becoming 
critical, for each moment brought fresh savages to the at- 
tack, while the brave English were suffering under a 
galling fire of arrows, which, though they seldom inflicted 
mortal wounds, were exceedingly galling and painful. 

Now, however, a fresh body of sailors, who, seeing their 
comrades' danger, had landed from the ships, advanced to 
jbeir assistance. "With an encouraging shout they rushed 
forward, and, opening their ranks to allow those to pass 
through who had discharged their pieces, they ranged 
themselves in front, and delivered another crushing volley. 


Those first engaged had now an opportunity of reloading, 
and, advancing in turn, they poured in so terrible a fire 
that the Indians, despite their numbers, fell back in con- 

Now, too, they were joined by the Spaniards, who per- 
ceived with gratitude and joy that the English, instead of 
being their foes, were their friends. A few more crushing 
volleys, and then Englishmen and Spaniards in turn at- 
tacked the savages, throwing themselves upon them with 
a loud shout, and with irresistible fury. The Indians fell 
back in disorder, and their retreat was soon converted into 
a flight. 

Some seventy or eighty of their warriors were now 
stretched on the ground, and the remainder fled in con- 
fusion back into the town, from which might still be heard 
the shrieks of the women and children, bearing evidence 
to the fact that others of them were engaged in the work 
of pillage and murder. 

Francis Drake, waving his sword, led the way in pur- 
suit of the flying Ottamankos. Following close at their 
heels into the town, a terrible scene met their view ; the 
houses in the principal street were many of them on fire, 
while groups of terrified women and children might be 
seen flying in terror from the savages, who pursued thein, 
and endeavoured to carry them off with them into the 

Turning his head for a moment, to satisfy himself that 
'lis men were following him, Francis saw, to Ms horror, 
that the gentle Amy was close beside him. 

" Amy, Amy ! will you never learn wisdom 1 Go back 
— this is no place for you. Gideon," he cried to the 
Cornishman, whom he espied as he rushed on to the at- 
tack, wielding an enormous ship's axe — " Gideon, come 


here, and do not leave my sister for a moment till she is 
in a place of safety." 

Gideon obeyed, and prepared to conduct the young girl 
to the rear out of danger ; but she resolutely refused to 
leave the scene. Francis, now thinking that Gideon would 
see her in safety, again rushed on, half maddened by the 
pitiful shrieking of the women and children in the town. 

" Gideon, Gideon ! " cried Amy, " I will not go. See ! 
— look there ! there is Don Placido's niece, who gave me 
the bracelet. See — she is attacked by an Indian ! Save 
her ! oh, save her ! " 

Gideon looked, and saw a tall Ottamanko warrior about 
to attack Don Pablo, who stood defending Carminia, with 
one arm round her waist. 

"Humph!" growled Gideon; "it's a brave lad — let's 
see him kill this naked savage." 

But, unfortunately, things did not turn out as the 
Cornishman expected ; for, embarrassed by Carminia, 
Don Pablo could not cope with the savage. His sword 
was dashed from Ms hand by the tomahawk of his enemy, 
and the next moment he was stretched bleeding on the 

Carminia shrieked wildly as she saw her brave defender 
fall, and fainted. Then the Indian, taking her insensible 
form in his arms, dashed off up a side street, and plunged 
into the wood at a run. 

" Save her — save her, good Gideon ! " cried Amy, 

Gideon, giving a grunt of dissatisfaction, dashed off in 
pursuit ; and Amy watched with tearful eyes the retreat- 
ing forms of the savage with Carminia and the Cornish- 
man, Sir Edward Dudley also started off in pursuit. 


The Indian, encumbered by his burden, could not run 
as fast as Gideon, who gained on him at every step. He 
could hear the hoarse gruntings and puffings of the Cor- 
nishman behind him, and, aware that he must be over- 
taken, suddenly threw down his burden, and turned to 
defend himself. Gideon had thrown aside his musket 
and cutlass, in order to run the better. The savage gave 
a smile of satisfaction and contempt, as he saw the unarmed 
Englishman come tearing towards him. Gideon never 
halted in his course for one moment, but dashed full at 
the savage. This latter raised his tomahawk, and aimed 
a terrible blow at Gideon as he rushed on him ; Gideon 
received it on his arm, the weapon inflicting a severe 
wound. The next moment, and he had closed with his 
enemy. He flung his great brawny arms around the 
naked body of the savage, who in that terrible grip was 
helpless as a child. For one moment he struggled des- 
perately : but Gideon, putting his whole strength in the 
effort, compressed the body of his victim by such a dread- 
ful bear-like hug, that the Indian's ribs crushed in like 
basket-work. The next moment he opened his arms, and 
his enemy fell helplessly to the ground, the blood gushing 
in torrents from his mouth ; he rolled over on his free, 
giving but one deep groan, and all was over. 

" Ah ! bah ! " said the victor contemptuously to his 
master, who had arrived ; " such naked vagabonds as that 
are hardly worth one's trouble ; it's no more trouble than 
wringing the neck of a fowl. The fool ! to think that 
with his bit of a tomahawk he could stand against me ! " 

"Nevertheless, I see you are wounded," said Sir Ed- 
ward ; " so lift up the young lady, and let us get back to 
Mie town, and have your hurt attended to." 


" It is nothing," grumbled Gideon. " It was my own 
fault ; the naked vermin could never have touched me, 
had I chosen to prevent it." 

Then he took the still insensible form of Carminia in 
his arms, and carried her back to the town, from which 
the savages were flying in every direction, pursued by the 
victorious English. 

Don Pablo was not severely wounded ; and, on seeing 
that Carminia was saved, he gave a cry of joy; then, 
taking her from the arms of Gideon, he laid her tenderly 
on the ground, and sought by every means in his power tu 
restore her to consciousness. Nor were his efforts unsuc- 
cessful, for in a few minutes the young girl opened her 
eyes, and gazed around her. 

Ill the meantime the Ottamankos had been driven, to 
the last man, from the town, leaving half of their number 
dead or dying behind them. Many of the Spaniards, too, 
had been slain, and among them, sad to relate, some 
women and children. 

With the exception of those who were tending the 
wounded, and others who performed the last offices for the 
dead, all the inhabitants of Santa Marta were gathered 
around the brave English, who had befriended them in 
fchek hour of need. 

Don Martinez, to whom it is but due to say, that during 
the conflict he comported himself as a brave man, ad- 
vanced towards Francis Drake, who was at the head of his 

" Senor Corsair," he said, bowing profoundly, "you have 
this day proved that your generosity is equal to your cou- 
rage. How can we repay you for the great service you 
Jia\e rendered us? Name your price, and, on behalf of 


myself and townspeople, I will answer that it shall not be 

" Keturn to your dwelling, attend to your wounded, 
and bury your dead," replied Francis; "we wish for no 

reward." . 

An hour later, in spite of the earnest solicitations ot the 
Spaniards, who would have been willing to keep then- 
brave defenders and late enemies for ever in the town, the 
English left the town, and once again embarked on hoard 
the ships. 

It wa< near noon ere all the -English were again on 
board the two ships, the Nemesis and the Avenger. The 
anchors are quickly weighed, the sails set, and once more 
before the western breeze the English corsairs sail out to 
sea. As long as they are in sight, a group of the inhabi- 
tants remain on the quay, waving their handkerchiefs, and 
wishing God speed to these men, who were at once then- 
conquerors and their saviours. 

Robert Dudley and the three Frenchmen were on board 
the brig the Nemesis, while Francis and Sir Edward were 
on board the Avenger. 

Merrily the two ships dashed along before the fresh 
breeze. It was a beautiful afternoon ; the sea was just 
ruffled by the breeze without being rough, and the heat of 
the afternoon sun was mitigated by the cool wind, and 
awnings which had been spread for the purpose. Francis, 
Sir Edward, and Amy were on the high poop of the fri- 
gate, enjoying in the cool shade of the evening the soft 
'ii'.-hiiig I'hv/.u. it was hard to realize, in the bright 
unskine, the bine sky, and blue ocean, milled by a thou- 
sand little waves, that they had but a few hours previously 
passed through such a scene of horror and bloodshed. 
" How beautiful, smiling, and peaceful the sea. the sky, 


and all nature appears ! " said Sir Edward to Francis. 
" How different from the scene of noise and bloodshed we 
have witnessed ! " 

'•' Ah ! was it not dreadful 1 " said Amy, shuddering. " I 
declare it made me quite sick ! " 

" Well, little one," said her brother, as he gazed list- 
lessly out into the sea, " at all events, we may calculate on 
having the remainder of the day in peace. Surely fortune 
has in store for us some little rest and quietness, after such 
a bloody morning's work ! " 



Francis Drake now wished for some place where he could 
land his crew, and enjoy some respite from his exciting 
labours. But there were difficulties in the way. 

In the first place, where should he find an asylum in 
an enemy's country 1 At all the ports on the Spanish 
Main the authorities would have been doubtless apprised 
of his attack on Santa Marta, and his depredations at sea. 
Doubtless at each port there would be a body of troops, 
and perhaps several war ships. At Santa Marta itself, 
after the service he had rendered the inhabitants by de- 
feating the Indians, they would doubtless receive hi™ 
with open arms. But would it be safe u> venuiiv a> da- 
port with the Avenge?- and the Nemesis, after tin- capture 
and plunder of the Spanish galleon, which would soon 
be known throughout the whole of Soutli America ? 

Fortunately, Eobert Dudley was able to relieve him 


from the difficulty. During his stay with the SalharA 
Indians, he had become well acquainted with the country; 
he offered to conduct Francis Drake to a creek in the Gulf 
of Darien, where the Avenger would be alike hidden from 
man, and sheltered from the winds and waves. 

Francis Drake gladly accepted this offer, and, following 
the directions of Eobert Dudley, the two vessels safely 
arrived there. He found that the creek possessed all the 
advantages promised. It was in every respect a fitting 
nest for that terrible sea-bird, a corsair. 

The creek or inlet to which Robert Dudley had con- 
ducted him, was, as we have before stated, situated in the 
Gulf of Darien, at a distance of about sixty miles from 
Santa Marta. It was some two miles up the river, and 
was completely screened from observation. A whole fleet 
of vessels might pass up the river, while another fleet 
might be lying hidden in the inlet. The entrance to it 
was narrow and tortuous ; so much so, indeed, that not 
more than one vessel could pass in at a time. When once, 
however, the narrow channel was threaded, there was a 
large open basin, capable of holding twenty large ships. 
This basin was surrounded on all sides by high precipitous 

There wae but one pass out of this place— a narrow 
gully, which a mountain stream had worn in the rocks. 
The place was admirably adapted by nature, both for con- 
cealment and — in case of discovery by enemies — for de- 

In this secure retreat the two vessels were moored, per- 
fectly concealed from all but those who knew the secret of 
the retreat. 

In the rocks surrounding the inlet there were several 
oaves of different dimensions. Francis took advantage of 


these, and, completing the work which nature had begun, 
caused them to be further excavated and hollowed out, 
until, after several days' labour, a tunnel was formed, lead- 
ing to a large subterranean chamber. This he determined 
to use as a store-room, and landed a considerable quantity 
of arms, ammunition, and treasure. 

He also brought on shore, and fixed in commanding 
positions on each side of the narrow passage, some of the 
largest ship's guns. Thus the entrance was completely 
protected from the assaults of enemies, even should they 
succeed in discovering it. Francis Drake calculated that, 
with the two ships and their crews, he could successfully 
defend the place against any force the Spaniards could 

Here, then, the corsairs rested, and employed them- 
selves in adding to the natural defences of their hiding 
place. The cave was put in a state of thorough repair ; 
the floor was levelled, and spread with dry sand, and the 
hidden passage was enlarged, and made sufficiently com- 
modious to enable it to be used with comfort. 

The cave was now filled with the spoils of the Spanish 
ships they had plundered— with arms, powder, and all 
manner of warlike stores. All around the creek, too, at 
intervals of a few yards, cannon were mounted ; so that 
even should an enemy force his way past the defences at 
the entrance, he would be exposed to a terrible fire from 
the rocks around. 

The brushwood and trees immediately on the banks of 
the creek were all cleared away, and in several parts arti- 
ficial landing-places were formed. The sailors, too, under 
the direction of Michael, with great labour constructed a 
dock, in which either of the ships could, if damaged, be 
repaired. Altogether, the place was put into such a con- 



dition, as to be in reality a strongly-fortified harbour, with 
great natural advantages, so improved by art, as to be a 
most secure retreat for the corsairs. 

Nor had Francis Drake been idle. He had made hi3 
way across the valley, and with great toil had ascended 
the mountains bounding it. But if the toil of the ascent 
was great, he was fully rewarded by the sight which met 
his eyes when he had gained the summit. To the east he 
saw the fertile expanse of the valley he had traversed, 
while far away in the distance were the blue waters of the 
Atlantic Ocean. He could discern far away on his right 
the Spanish town of Carthagena, and here and there, on 
the broad expanse of the ocean, the white sails of a ship 
going or returning to one of the ports of Spanish America* 
But if the sight which met his gaze to the east excited his 
admiration, on turning towards the west his astonishment 
was unbounded, for he saw lying before him, in all its 
calm majesty, the vast waters of the Pacific Ocean. The 
mountain on whose summit he now was, was situated 
nearly in the centre of the Isthmus of Panama. Francis 
Drake had been the first to ascend it, and his enterprize 
was well rewarded ; for he was the first to discover that 
only a narrow strip of land separated two vast and dis- 
tinct oceans — a discovery second only to that of the New 
World. "With that singular prescience only given to 
great minds, he at once conjectured that there must be a 
passage to the southward of this new ocean. Nor was he 
wrong ; for shortly afterwards the southern continent of 
America was rounded by the Straits of Magellan and Cape 
Horn, and Peru, Chili, Bolivia, and California, with all 

their wealth, resources, and treasures were discovered. 
Francis Drake cut a pole with a hatchet from a small 

tree on the mountain, and, fixing it firmly in the ground, 


he nailed to the top a small English flag which he brought 
with him. The emblem of English dominion fluttered in 
the breeze, Erancis Drake gazed proudly around him, a 
flush came to his cheek, and his eye sparkled. Apostro- 
phizing the flag, he said : — 

"Wave on, emblem of old England, my glorious coun- 
try, planted there, in view of the Atlantic and Pacific 
Oceans, by Erancis Drake, an obscure adventurer — a cor- 
sair ! You shall yeb wave over all America, and the 
flaunting flag of Spain shall disappear before the glories 
of the Union Jack ! " 

So saying, and casting one more glance around on the 
valley and the two oceans, he commenced to descend the 
mountain, and regained his companions without further 



Francis Drake determined to return to the spot where he 
had planted the flagstaff with a party from the creek ; he 
determined to build a fort on the very summit of the 
mountain, and leave in charge of it one of his brothers, 
with some ten or a dozen sailors. 

Accoruingly, after having rested for a couple of days, 
Francis Drake again set forth, with "Will, Eobert Dudley 
and a party of sailors, for the mountain top. 

After two days and a half of toil, they found themselves 
at the summit. Erecting a tent which they had brought 
with them, they waited to recover their strength and rest 
themselves before setting to work. On the next day, 


under the direction of Francis, they commenced to build a 
log hut. This they completed in less than a week. They 
then proceeded to erect a large flag-staff, in place of the 
small one on which Francis had first hoisted the British 
flag. _ 

This was not done without an object, or merely to hoist 
the British ensign. The summit of the mountain com- 
manded a clear view for many a mile around. To the east 
the waters of the Atlantic were spread out like a sheet 
before their gaze, to the south were the prairies and pampas 
of the New World, while to the west lay in calm repose 
the mighty Pacific Ocean. Francis Drake at once per- 
ceived the advantage of such an elevated station in his 
war against the Spaniards ; for, perched on this eminence, 
a man on the look-out could discover every vessel which 
approached or left any of the Spanish ports. The advan- 
tage of this could not be overrated ; and accordingly he 
determined to make the best of it, by establishing a code 
of signals. Thus, when a vessel was perceived by those 
on the look-out on the mountain, he arranged that certain 
flags should be hoisted in a certain manner, and in certain 
order ; these, when deciphered, would inform the corsairs 
in the retreat as to the fact that a vessel was in sight, the 
direction she was sailing in, and all other necessary par- 

A vigilant look-out was constantly kept from the en 
trance to the underground communication to the cave. 

A week elapsed, during which the crews of the two 
English ships were employed in still further strengthening 
the position. At the expiration of this time, one fine 
morning, immediately after sunrise, the English corsairs 
were thrown into a state of the greatest excitement by the 
dull report of a cannon, apparently proceeding from the 


other side of the precipitous rocks. This was the signal 
which Francis Drake had ordered to be made, when the 
man on the look-out observed flags on the flag-staff on the 

Francis Drake, Sir Edward Dudley, and Robert, hastily 
traversed the passage, and passed on to the platform. 
Looking out towai'ds the signal-post, they could discern 
tttat several flags were hoisted. Francis, who had arranged 
the code of signals to be used, took a telescope, and 
hastened to decipher them. 

" Two vessels are in sight," he said, after some little 
time. "They are steering to the westward, and conse- 
quently, are bound from America to Spain. Probably 
they are laden with treasure. Come, let us put to sea, 
and intercept them." 

They hurried back to the cavern, and Francis Drake 
gave orders for the crews of both vessels to go on board 
and weigh anchor. The wind was very light, so they 
were towed out of the inlet by the boats. Once outside, 
there was sufficient wind to fill the sails ; and the boats 
being hoisted up, the two corsair ships gave chase to the 
two sail, now plainly visible in the offing. 

Some twenty sailors were left at the inlet, in charge 
under a subordinate officer. Anxiously they watched the 
receding vessels, until they could distinguish nothing but 
two white specks on the horizon. Towards evening they 
heard the sound of a distant cannonade, and knew that 
the combat had commenced. Soon after dark they could 
hear the thundering of the distant guns. About ten 
o'clock it ceased ; then they knew that the battle was 
over, but which were the victors 1 

All through the long night they remained in suspense ; 
but at the first dawn of dav this was happily dissipated 


and they beheld approaching the creek with the favouring 
gale three vessels, one of which, disabled and dismasted, 
was in tow of the others. 

This vessel was a captured Spanish galleon ; the othei 
two, we need scarcely say, were the Avenger and the 
Nemesis. After an obstinate fight of several hours, they 
had, as before, totally defeated the Spaniards ; and having 
transferred all the prisoners on board one of the galleons, 
they had taken the other in tow, and sailed in triumph 
for the "Corsairs' Nest." 

Arrived at the mouth of the inlet, the boats were 
lowered, and the three vessels towed in ; for the wind 
was light and baffling, and the narrowness of the passage 
made it at all times a difficult operation. 

Shouts of joy and triumph rang from the sailors, as 
they victoriously sailed in with their prize. These shouts 
were echoed by the party on shore, and all the cannon 
which bad been mounted around the inlet roared forth 
from their iron throats a welcome to the successful 

The captured treasure was landed, and safely stowed in 
the cave ; the dead were buried, and the wounded tended. 
Then all went on as before, the corsairs awaiting, like wild 
beasts in their lair, the signal that another enemy, another 
prey, was in sight. 

In a few days the sound of the signal gun is again 
heard — once again the two ships put to sea ; again those 
left in the inlet hear the sounds of a distant combat, and, 
as before, the corsairs return with another prize, and more 
treasure. In this case, as before, Francis Drake, after 
having defeated the two vessels he attacked, placed all the 
prisoners on board one vessel, and taking the other in tow, 
sailed for the corsairs' nest 


The disabled Spaniard, meanwhile, made the hest of her 
way back to the first port, reporting that they had been 
attacked and plundered by English corsairs, who had car- 
ried off the other ship. Immediately the Spanish ships of 
war were sent in pursuit ; but on arriving at the place de- 
signated, could discover no signs of the pirates. In vain 
they cruised up and down the coast, and scoured the seas 
in every direction ; they could not discover their enemy, 
who lay crouching in his lair, while they themselves were 
seen from the mountain, and their every movement faith- 
fully signalled. 

While, then, the Spanish war-ships careered furiously up 
and down, the English lay quiet in their retreat ; not that 
Erancis Drake feared to meet and fight the Spaniards, but 
because he had a project in his head, with which it would 
at present have interfered. He had now captured and 
safely brought in two fine Spanish vessels, each carrying 
twenty cannon, and an immense amount of treasure. He 
purposed to carry on his depredations for some time longer, 
until he had collected a fleet of some ten or twelve ships 
of different sizes, and a still greater quantity of treasure. 
But what would be the use of a fleet without men to man 
them 1 Erancis had thought of that, and knew well that 
the ranks of his crew must soon be recruited ; for although 
victorious on every occasion, still their losses were heavy. 
The young corsair then determined, at the expiration of a 
month or two, when he had inflicted incalculable damage 
on the Spanish commerce, amassed immense treasure, and 
captured sufficient of their ships to form a fleet, to set sail 
with three of the largest and swiftest for England, well 
armed, and with a quantity of treasure. With this trea- 
sure he purposed purchasing a large quantity of arms, am- 
munition, and warlike stores., and also engaging at least a 


thousand British seamen to return with him to the New 
World, in search of wealth and glory. 

At the first commencement of the predatory attacks of 
the corsairs, intelligence had been sent off to Spain, and 
more war-ships a-unanded. On the receipt of the news at 
the court of King Philip, he manifested the greatest fury 
at the audacity of the English ; and, while despatching 
ample reinforcements to protect his possessions in the New 
World, he also sent emissaries to the English court at 
uondon to demand compensation, and that Francis Drake 
should he declared an outlaw. Meanwhile, the corsairs 
continued their depredations with impunity, till a vast 
quantity of treasure, and some twenty Spanish ships were 
in the inlet. 

And now Francis Drake considered that the time had 
come for the beginning of the end. Eight months had 
been passed in the Corsairs' Nest, and during that time 
they had attacked and plundered thirty of the Spanish 
galleons, twenty of which they had brought into the inlet; 
they had killed some hundred Spaniards, and had possessed 
themselves of an immense treasure. 

It may be supposed that the English, however fortunate 
and successful, must have suffered severely in so many 
battles. Indeed, their numbers were now reduced by 
nearly one-half, so that it became imperatively necessary 
■to reinforce them, if more were to be done ; and Francis 
Drake had no intention of relinquishing his mission. 

Accordingly, having made all the necessary arrange- 
ments, he prepared to sail with three vessels for England. 
He chose the Nemesis and two of the swiitest Spaniards, 
leaving the Avenger and the rest of the captured fleet 
under the charge of Sir Edward Dudley. He resolved to 
take only about a third of the sailors with him, as he pur- 

31 1 


posed no offensive operations until his return with more 
men. For safety he relied on his skill, end the swiftness 
of the three vessels. He purposed remaining in England 
only a sufficient time to complete his arrangements, and 
hoped to be back again in about five months. During 
that time, the English left at the Corsairs' Nest were to re- 
main perfectly quiet, not venturing to commit further de- 
predations until his return. By this means the Spaniards 
Would be thrown off their guard, and the richly-laden gal- 
leons, which of late had become rather scarce, would once 
again cover the seas ; then, with the whole fleet manned 
and armed, they would make a grand incursion all down 
the Spanish coast, plundering, burning, destroying. 

This was the projected plan of Francis Drake, the 
English corsair. 

All being completed, he sailed forth in the dusk of 
evening with the three vessels, amid the shouts and cheers 
of those who were left behind. The breeze was favourable, 
and the three ships dashed through the foaming waves in 
the direction of the Old World. 

At daylight next morning nothing could be seen of the 
three ships ; they had safely made their escape, and were 
for on their way to Old England. 




More than two months had passed on, when a large and 
well-armed Spanish squadron put to sea from the harbour 
of Santa Marta, under the command of Don Jose' de Cas- 
tanares, who was now admiral. The object of the ex- 
pedition was to attack, destroy, and capture the English 
corsairs, who had so long infested the sea. The retreats 
of the English had at length been discovered, and it was 
resolved to attack them in overwhelming force in their 

The Spanish fleet comprised twelve large ships of war; 
and five smaller ones, and carried a crew of six thousand 
men. "What doubt was there that so formidable a force 
would easily defeat and destroy the corsairs, weakened bj 
many combats 1 

Don Jose proposed to force his way into the inlet at all 
hazards, and at all risks, and to exterminate the band at 
once and utterly. 

The instant that the squadron arrived off the retreat, 
the signal was given to attack. The Englishmen were 
prepared for the approach of the enemy, for they had been 
warned from the look-out on the mountain. They were 
all determined to resist to the last grasp, a\.jhough weakened 
by the loss of many of their number. They could not 
but look forward gloomily to tha result of the approaching 

Will and Michael Drake were in command, and had 
disposed their little forces to the best advantage. The 
entrance to the retreat was strongly fortified by cannon, 
but, alas ! there was a scarcity of ammunition. Although 


the brothers kept it from the men, being unwilling to dis- 
courage them, they well knew that their powder would not 
last for longer than an hour's cannonade ; and after that, 
what could they expect but defeat and death ? How 
they prayed for the return of Francis Drake with the 
promised aid ! 

The attack was commenced by four of the largest 
Spanish vessels, which were towsd into the inlet by boats. 
These were met by so warm a cannonade, that, after half- 
an-hour's fighting, they retired in dismay, their decks 
strewn with the dead and dying. For a short time there 
was a cessation of hostilities ; only for a time, however, 
for fresh ships came to the attack, and again is heard the 
roar of the cannon, and the rattle of the musketry. With 
desperate bravery Michael and Will encourage tlieir men, 
penetrating into the very thick of the fight. 

Suddenly, amidst the din of battle, a sailor runs up to 
Michael, and says some words in a low tone. He has 
come from the signal-station, and reports that another 
fleet is coming up. Michael, approaching his brother, 
who is himself engaged in training a cannon on the fore- 
most ships of the enemy, says gloomily — 

" All is lost ! Fresh ships — another fleet — is coming 
to the assistance of the Spaniards." 

" Let it come ! " replied Will, valiantly. " We will 
receive it as we do this. Courage, brother ; the day will 
yet be ours." 

At this moment, however, an artilleryman comes up, 
and reports that the powder is failing — they have but ten 
or twelve more rounds. Meanwhile, ship after ship of the 
Spanish squadron is brought up to the attack, and iit>thin» 
is heard on all sides but the shouts of the combatants and 
the roar of the cannon. The English, protected by their 


batteries and earthworks, have hitherto lost but few men, 
while the slaughter on board the Spaniards has been 

Now, however, foot by foot, the Spanish vessels are ad- 
vancing into the creek itself. Two have already forced 
their way in, and are almost beyond the range of the guns. 
The situation is becoming critical ; for now the English 
batteries can be attacked in flank. 

Don Jose, on board the Santissima Trinidada, has not 
yet brought his ship into action ; but now he determines 
himself to lead the attack, and force his way into the cor- 
sairs' retreat. 

The admiral's ship, and four other of the largest, are 
now towed ahead towards the creek ; at the same time the 
terrible fire of the English slackens. Suddenly, however, 
the sound of cannon is heard from the direction of the 
sea ; both Spaniards and Englishmen pause for a moment, 
to ascertain the nature of the firing. The English see 
with gloom and despair a fleet of ten more vessels at 
barely a mile's distance, while the Spaniards gaze in per" 
plexity and surprise. 

Don Jose orders the attack to be postponed for a time. 

" What can this squadron be 1 " he asks in surprise 
from his lieutenant. 

" Doubtless these are vessels sent from Spain." 

" Strange that we should not have been apprised of 
their coming ! " said Don Jose, gazing with doubt and 
suspicion on the approaching fleet. 

Suddenly, while be is still endeavouring to make out 
the new-comers, a flag is run up to the mizen-peak of each, 
and the roar of a hundred cannon immediately succeeds. 
The Englishmen on the heights, after gazing forth in 
doubt for a moment, scarcely able to believe in their good 


fortune, give vent to a tremendous shout of joy and 
triumph ; for the English ensign floats proudly from the 
peak of each of the newly-arrived vessels, and they know 
that it is Francis Drake, with the promised succour. 

Don Jose gives vent to a cry of rage, and immediately 
orders the attack to recommence. He hopes to defeat the 
Englishmen in the inlet, and take their batteries, before 
the other ships can come to their assistance. 

Meanwhile, the English squadron, led by a large frigate, 
commanded by Drake, the dreaded corsair himself, bears 
down to attack. "Without a moment's hesitation, they 
sail on, and penetrating the Spanish line, close up along- 
side the largest and most formidable Spanish vessels, and 
commence pouring in their broadsides. Now is heard the 
thunder of the EngHsh cannon, both in front and rear. 

The ship of Don Jose de Castanares, and two others, 
have forced their way past the opening of the creek, and 
are now engaging the batteries, whose fire is almost 
silenced from want of ammunition. For a moment the 
battle appears to incline in favour of the Spaniards, for 
they have forced their way within the retreat. The attack 
of the English ships now slackens, and one after another 
the Spaniards are towed in after the vessel of Don Jose. 

This latter, rejoicing in this success, gives the order for 
all the ships to open fire on the batteries, and then to 
take them by assault. A tremendous cannonade is opened, 
without a shot being fired by the English in return. Don 
Jose discovers that the batteries are abandoned, and is 
about to give the order to take possession of them, when 
the attack is reopened by the English vessels, who now 
force their way into the inlet after tbe Spaniards. 

Don Jose now finds that he is caught in a trap, and 
that it r^s the policy ol the English commander to allow 


him to enter. The passage is so narrow at the entrance, 
that vessels in entering often graze their sides. Advantage 
is taken of this by the English in the ships to pass kegs of 
powder to their comrades on shore. In a few momenta 
the fire of the batteries recommences. 

Attacked on all sides, the carnage on board the Spaniards 
is now frightful. The shot, plunging down from the bat- 
teries on the heights, in some cases pass right through 
the decks, and out through the ship's bottoms ; many are 
already on the point of sinking. The fire from the well- 
served cannons of the English ships, too, is most destruc- 
tive — howling amidst the rigging, splintering the timbers, 
and slaughtering the crews in a frightful manner. 

The English ships steadily advance up the creek towards 
where the Spanish admiral's ship is posted. They leave 
behind them nothing but helpless and shot-torn wrecks, 
for in no case has a Spanish ship withstood for more than 
a minute or two the terrific cannonade of the British. 

All the ships of the Spaniards have now been sunk, or 
have surrendered, except the Santissima Trinidada, and 
the three others who first entered. These have passed on 
up to the end of the creek, and many of their crews are 
escaping to the shore. Francis Drake, observing this, 
presses on to the attack with such of his ships as are least 
injured in the fight. The English corsair hastens to lay 
his own vessel alongside of the Santissima Trinidada, 
and the gunners pour a terrible fire into the doomed 
Spaniard. At that instant the boarding party led by 
Francis Drake, threw themselves on board, and after a 
fierce and sanguinary struggle, amid aloud cries and huzzas, 
the Santissima Trinidada surrenders to the young corsair. 
Don Jose, the Spanish admiral, perished in the vain at- 


tempt to beat back the boarders, thus escaping the ven- 
geance of Francis Drake by an honourable death. 

By this time every Spanish ship was sunk or captured, 
and on all sides might be heard the joyous shouts of the 
victors. On the poop of the isantissima Trlnidada wero 
assembled Sir Edward Dudley, Robert Dudley, Michael 
Drake, and Gideon Glossop. After mutual congratulations 
upon their fortunate victory, the Corsair gave orders for 
his men to clean the decks, attend to the wounded, and 
prepare to put to sea again. Sir Edward Dudley, leading 
Amy by the hand, approached him. 

"Francis," said his friend and patron, "this is no 
place for this poor child. With your consent, I will take 
her back with me to England ; and when next you set 
her, you must call her Lady Dudley." 

" "With all my heart, Sir Edward," said Francis, the 
tears starting to his eyes. " Take which of the ships you 
like, and God bless you ! And Robert — what of your 
brother Robert 1 " 

" He goes with me, to seek his bride in Old England." 

Francis mused for a moment. 

" Sir Edward," he said, " take my sister, and may 
Heaven smile on you both — may health and happiness be 
your portion. As for me, I must live for fame, the namo 
sf Francis Drake, the Corsair of the Main, shall yet ring 
in both hemispheres. Take which vessel you please. 
Once more — adieu ! " 

Then Amy, with a passionate burst of tears, threw her- 
self on her brother's breast, and bade him farewell. 

In an hour's time, Sir Edward Dudley, Robert Dudley, 
and Amy, sailed forth from the corsairs' retreat, and made 
sail to Old England. As they passed out into the open 


sea, a thundering shout rang forth from the corsairs. Sit 
Edward Dudley waived his hand in farewell to his com- 
panions, and the next moment the vessel is hid by the 
bluff overhanging rocks from their gaze. 

Perhaps some day we may again revisit the Spanish 
Main, and record the further exploits of Francis Drake, 
the Corsair, and the " Demons of the Sea." 

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